schriftsteller

just stringing pretty words.

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Fission by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Fission

We are reckless & resolute— trying to gain our footing on ground that never stops its shifting. I tumble & curse you you falter & deny every part of me— the landscape is unforgiving but we each take the role of apologist & absolver. The cracks & faces try to dislocate us but you are there to pull me away from ledges with only your pinkie finger necessary & I am there with my entire body to be the strength under your shoulder that keeps you from falling & shattering into thousands of different mirrored pieces.

Divisions by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Divisions

There are broken vessels in my chest like the ones I left on yours four afternoons before you went back into the sky. Yes, I miss you— you belong in a gallery of photo frames, each handling a different piece of you. Maybe your battle could be solved if I put you into segments— the hair on your lip that was soft enough not to break my skin & strong enough to assert your dominance, your hip in bed like a north star thrust above the horizon, your eyes that taught me kaleidoscopes could be made solely in browns. I wish I had taken that photograph— you asleep & splayed over the entire mattress like a personal kingdom.

Somatoform by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Somatoform

You haven’t asked but I feel sick— my mouth is sticky & dry with unvoiced sentiments & the strength I should have pushed into yours, my chest aches & jumps every time a thought of you passes by the windows of my mind, I feel a psychosomatic fever burning me from the inside out without purifying & my skin bristles to any touch. These walls are unkind & everything reminds me of you— uninvolved parties on television with intersecting experiences like a vast graph of grief, the eyes in my bedroom who all saw us love each other like a world was crashing outside, like we had nothing but each other to shield ourselves

Prostration by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Prostration

The bed is no longer safe— not while I can still trace where your curves fit in & creased the sheets into a now empty mirror image, not after you’ve scented it like a perfume of seagrass & the deep musk of the nature of human compatibility, though the smell has left. I can’t burrow under the layers without remembering your absurdly long eyelashes like little winter trees reaching towards the sky of your cheeks, the feel of you pressed against my back like complementary angles made to fit inside one another, the way you sighed when you were happy now filling my chest with palpitations like bird wings clattering to e

Cease by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Cease

There is no tenderness in this form of illness— if you don’t go off chasing after your death sympathy runs dry. I cannot go to the hospital— I am not imagining what bus teeth feel like or counting stones with the currents in mind. This is the worst trick— that nothing matters but you are too tired to leave or even think of leaving. But all that’s left is thought— the bulbous phone battery sure to be giving off radiation, the conversation snippets you don’t want to replay anymore real or imaginary, the sole focus on the clock while it tracks down your cigarettes. The unending repetitions.

pauvre sur vous by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

pauvre sur vous

I can imagine December— staying awake all night because there’s just one more thing pressing on our throats to be said, just one more thing, one more thing until dawn’s pressure against our temples floods us with sleep. I will know you with warm fuzzy morning hair & teeth— rolling across the teal & grey sea of my bed to grasp my waist like an anchor to hold me down to reality & us away from those thoughts, the cyclical drain we learned to escape with each other. I will know you by the pressure points that bring on hunger— the pinpoint on the back of your neck when I wake you up, the hill of your hip u

(future tense) by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

(future tense)

It goes like this— I have survived. You are there— drawn over a supernova with your arms wide like riding a tiger without stripes or my face is bruised & you are the bathtub I crawled out of like a second womb & it has taken me this long to avoid the peach pits against the inside of my cheeks that you pulled out with your impossibly long fingers or you have been patient in your chair of broken glass for me to unhang myself from my ankle & blow my life into your mouth or the mountains have turned their backs & I’m traversing their steepled spines because your beauty is monumental & I have to build it or on the first

Outside by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Outside

I throw knives up to hit the ceiling’s non-vital organs to keep them away from me. Because it terrifies you because you can’t put a name to your feelings because September is coming the dying season has passed & the grasshoppers can only pretend to be sticks for so long until they startle me. Because I can’t make you love me I live off rations— the blankets you’re always stealing the videos into your life this week’s birthday money my mother’s returning health the lumpy mattress I’m inhabiting as a body the sound of your voice tracing over my indiscretions. Always saying I’m

Stand Alone by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Stand Alone

When does someone pay to see a life fall apart? I would like a little spending money or the last two weeks of food. This might be the slowest fall & the disintegration only effects my knees & wrists. Sporadically. How long has it been, now, with the landfill’s share of cigarette butts & depersonalized medication bottles. Those one things I could never throw away even after the nuclear meltdowns— multiplying, multiplying. To be alone is different than to be lonely but without anyone to watch the internal obsessive thoughts tickertape or the bedroom stand where the bad thing sleeps hissing or the way I’m always trying &

(suffocate) by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

(suffocate)

The platonic narratives are tugging all through me— plucking my hairs with paranoia & my animal restless & screaming on mute. I want it to go back— you tasting my bursting desire on your tongue, marking each other with secret letters of an alphabet only we can read, the names & states of eros that meant love to me. I am unstable here— my legs are unsteady trying to grip new ground, my atoms are shivering erratically when you’re away & I am becoming a lost boy like this. Careening reckless through life with a wish to stagnate— seeking out fear only to feel you around me like I’ve seen something in

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Fission by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Fission

Divisions by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Divisions

Somatoform by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Somatoform

Prostration by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Prostration

Cease by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Cease

pauvre sur vous by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

pauvre sur vous

(future tense) by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

(future tense)

Outside by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Outside

Stand Alone by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Stand Alone

(suffocate) by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

(suffocate)

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Cease by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Cease

Stand Alone by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Stand Alone

Collecting J's Pt. I by schriftsteller, literature

Landscape. by schriftsteller, literature

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What My Mind Sounds Like by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

What My Mind Sounds Like

the fuzzy half-static of a tuning radio an amplified feedback full of repetitious speeches in torqued distortion words on a loop until its clawing at hair, ripping out at the occipital bone a flood of neuroses & fears flooding & shifting like sand in your neck choking on wind forced thru the back of your throat the click of a lighter with the flame blowing out & a snort of mucus accompaniment metal lurching free & ringing against its partner, a flick in the air the singe & eventual flash crackle of skin visitor’s passes peeled off their backing & the quiet scrape off clothing an hour later every song that puts a hole thru you

Hard Pressed by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Hard Pressed

That nameless regret is pawing around inside me again— spreading apart the spaces in my ribs, peeling apart muscle to make room for itself, leaving me an autopsy mess. My toes are cold in the summer air— an internal chill abstraction of winter that crops up without reckoning— today my self is hard to swallow & every time I try something glitches at the back of my throat, my left side of inconvenience I can never cough out completely. There is no sad music within reach & I am too tightly corded to retrieve some— involving speech particles in the indecisive air temperature I create & the botched representations

Papercuts by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Papercuts

Only reduced fractions of conversation can be called into present— my dissociative joined us invitation free & I only have slipped memory of half-sided shelf life voices, impossible views of the humidity of my throat & mouth silent film miming from outside my blue field of vision with my inner second rabidly rapid heartbeat of nervousness pounding the stakes to split normal consciousness. I would like a congruent thought able to spread flat over an entire hour span, a way to fold together editing room clippings to an entire cinema sequence over those wet blanket weight silences & your laugh only able to escape the confines o

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LOUD by sunshinegypsy, literature

Literature

LOUD

After the longest Friday at work I come home, get a little drunk on honey whiskey, make lemonade from scratch, cello on the speakers. I get high & rock Lindsay Sterling. My friend’s fiancé hung himself: a good man, videotaping his death, somewhere; a failed conversation, a wealth of unsaid words, my voice is useless. Tonight doing dishes becomes a poem; wearing a dress, back exposed, skin still hot from loving, I purple passion paint my toes. I like cooking with you, that sneaky, subtle dance, the way you taste my finger- hold the whisk, turn, & spill spices in my palm, drifting into warm haze, rising

Deviation Spotlight

Unbound Ties by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Unbound Ties

You choke on the meds— the bitter taste of failure, the coffee thick in your indecisive throat. Downstairs, a baby howls like a mistreated coyote at the vaporizing moon— the all day affair of listening to abandonment thumping in your ears. Across town, a man you might have learned to love boards a bus for greener pastures— the promise of keeping in touch rolling in your mouth like a pendulum uncertain of its true purpose. & in a tiny town on the edge of oblivion, your one-time, for-all-time lover chokes on the daily defeat— feeling the chorus of your blood burst against her lips, all the unspoken

Unbound Ties

schriftsteller

Deviation Spotlight

The Fragile Revisions in Life by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

The Fragile Revisions in Life

for the geniuses shattered by madness In Rockland or Fort Logan where I love you too much for your psychosis synopsis, your raving enlightenment, Blake-tranquility & giddy wisdom, my mother with the deep black, her revolving door of abusers, lack of esteem held to her worth, father with his barbed belt eventually eaten by his malignant thoughts, the suitor stalking the ghost- rich grounds only contained by the flash glow of the dog’s eyes red & blue, my first lover-father with his vinegar & roughed up spinning mouth, his penis be

The Fragile Revisions in Life

schriftsteller

Deviation Spotlight

Immeasurable Waiting by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Immeasurable Waiting

They say I'm a prophet. They say it as a passing train forces itself against the tracks like a snuff film. It's said as I walk down the street— eyes folded down like the venetian blinds I've always longed for— muttering to their company, or no one, or the epiphany they wish upon themselves. The words follow me like a silk scarf feeding itself to the wind— pointless in its beauty. Simple in its lack of efficiency. I've learned to not hear it— let it waft away from my body until it gets in my eyes and stings like smoke. my body is made, used, in the ghostly world— sprawled out in the everlasting, flowering, trees o

Immeasurable Waiting

schriftsteller

Deviation Spotlight

Ashed by schriftsteller, literature

Literature

Ashed

John Lennon makes me sad because he lurks around my mother’s funeral singing in his same living, finch-lilted voice— there is no city closer to grey than New York where he stained the pavement, no city where the limits of black & white are tested as much. He comes buzzing into the bedroom with lukewarm green tea smiles & star anise that he’s dismantled into the mere atoms of scent— there are more capabilities the dead can tell you about. Sitting tiny as a seed packet on my colossus shoulder— close enough to feel the lack of his breath fogging the hand mirror of my third eye— he murmurs to imagine

Ashed

schriftsteller

About schriftsteller

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Artist // Literature

Aug 10
United States
Deviant for 17 years

Badges

I've seen it: It's Coming -- Stay Tuned!

My Bio

_{Hello.

I am a poet who sometimes writes
& sometimes writes a lot.

If you like my work, thank you.
Deeply Truly Amazingly-- thank you.
I will never understand how
in such a short span of time
my words started carrying
so much weight.

If you loved one of my poems,
found yourself inside a line,
faved one or commented--
I love you. For always.}

Favourite Visual Artist

Francesca Woodman | Frida Kahlo | lauren-rabbit

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True Blood | American Horror Story | Duck Dynasty

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Favourite Books

Favourite Writers

Favourite Gaming Platform

board

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cigarettes & emotional breaks

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schriftsteller

Apr 6, 2020

Well damn.

3 min read

Obviously I haven't been around in, well, years now. When I made my last journal I hadn't even noticed that I got another DD. So thank you all for that, especially to LiliWrites. It looks like her account is deactivated now but I really appreciate her featuring me and liking that poem enough to think it was worthy of a DD. Thank you to everyone who faved it and started watching me from it, as well. I apologize that there have been no new poems since. I'm sure that's disappointing. Life has been life and I'm alive. I have no words left for poems, nor have I for years now. That in itself is very disappointing and kind of depressing but there's nothing I can do about it either way. I'm so thankful that everyone here was so supportive in the time I spent here and gave me so much love for my poetry. It means the world to me, truly. I made a lot of great friends here and I understand it was super rude to drop off the edge of the world in the middle of everything without a word. I was still

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schriftsteller

Apr 24, 2016

Back-ish? Maybe?

0 min read

I have not existed here for a while. That's mainly because I haven't written anything. But I wrote some crap. I honestly don't even know if I know how to write anymore but I edited it a bit & decided it wasn't horrific so I posted it. Rip it apart if you wish. Or, y'know, nicely critique. I'll try not to cry too much. I hope you all have been doing well & are living wonderful lives If anyone actually wants to know what I've been doing you can comment & I'll write another journal. Without whining even! I know the first two poems are pretty damn whiny but I am in a different place now. Somehow.

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schriftsteller

Dec 24, 2015

Oh my.

0 min read

Well, I got another DD. Thank you guys so much for the support & all the love & all your loveliness. I'm very appreciative of every DD I've gotten but this one is special to me because it's the first poem I wrote about my new boy. Who was very pleased with this news, by the way. Christmas is coming & things are strange here. Boy is in the hospital currently & things aren't looking great there but I am trying to listen to my mother & "think positive" even tho that's pretty much a 180 from my normal thought process. I feel bad because I usually write so many more poems than this about my loves. He hasn't gotten

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Profile Comments 713

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YouInventedMe

Aug 10, 2019

Wherever you are, I hope your birthday is a good one. Happy Birthday!

ithaswhatitisnt

Aug 10, 2016

Happy birthday!

I hope you're having a lovely day!

MarMicheal

Aug 10, 2016

Happy Birthday!!! Airborne

happy b-day~

Aah, just dropping by to tell you you're wonderful, and thank you so much for sharing such lovely work - they really are worth the read! Meow :3

gonefromhere

Oct 17, 2015

Thank you so much for

ing

Eremitik

Oct 4, 2015

You are AWESOME!
Thank you so much for browsing my gallery, the comments and the faves. It means a lot.
Cant tell you how surprised I was when I signed on this morning and saw the faves.