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The Bambi syndrome(Dis)regarding logic and sensibility
I like to sit on railway tracks, feeling the vibrations beneath my finger tips
Just beneath the blood vessels and haemoglobin
The whirring of the air being sucked out from my lungs
Chicken is not a game for the faint hearted

She called me reckless, and that scared her
Because I craved the adrenaline to flush out the morphine
I balance on bridges, always teetering
Cheshire cat grins as we run across highways
Darting blurring hues of monochrome grey and black cars
In the dark, only headlights visible
Deer in the headlight

Then we ran to abandoned warehouses
Smashed windows and ate shards of glass
Drowning
Insert creative title here.sometimes I hate the idea
of talking

I rather eat the autumn
skies crushing cold air between my molars
and hiding shaky hands
between pages of dictionaries
and clickclickclicking sounds of typewriters

you asked me why I wrote poems
on the soles of my shoes
and I told you

it was because I wanted to
imprint myself on the earth
then I can create beauty
even if I am not
If you drink enough vodka it tastes like loveHe’d whisper sweet nothings to trees
Hoping the roots would remember his name
I watched him drop pieces of himself like bread crumbs
His lantern limbs quivering

I don’t think he ever really knew how lovely he was
And on a sunny day when the pavement was sweating
Out onto the roadside
Everyone else found out too

I don’t think I’ll ever forget him because he was like a dream catcher
So quiet and magical in the way his eyes turned green in the dark
And blue in the winter
Like he stored the world’s secrets behind his cuckoo spit heart
Hocus pocusI want to hollow out my eyes
And hold them in my palms
And see things with a new perspective

Because everything around me seems
To be slipping out of focus
And magic words don’t fix broken wrists
pusillanimousI wanted to slice the sky open like an artery
So I could see what a real night sky looks like
Not one seen through filmy glass and insomniac irises
I wanted to see the world in all its clarity
Not fuzzy charcoaled edges blurred with hazy carbon dioxide lashes

Is it so wrong to dip dye myself in decadence?
To breathe in the smoky sweet haze of a drug induced s.l.e.e.p
Lemon lips to stave the hunger
Ican'tevenholdapenciltopaperanymore
Without ripping myself wide open and spewing my guts for all to see
(We don't do this for the thrill, we do it to prove we exist)

I am laid bare on chrysalis pillow cases and moth ball sheets  
And I c
MonologueSpinal fluid seems to be seeping between the cracks
Of the dark hardwood floors beneath me
As if all the cartilage from my being
Has been used to paste together an arthropod heart
I’ve white washed my pupils and folded them
Into hazy envelopes and sent them off to strangers
A mermaid stole my bonesI want to deteriorate into the ocean and feel the waves
Break over my spine
Because I’ve learnt through trial and error
That holding my breath only makes my heart beat faster

And plain white pills do nothing to soothe
The anxiety sewn deep within my bones
The bitter aftertaste still lingers in the back of my throat
much like the feeling
of her breath in my lungs
subliminal messages from the unheard heroineChain smoking behind crumbling bike sheds
We’d amble across deserted swing sets
Sipping bad coffee and reading about dead poets
You with a charcoal smudge in the crease of your lips
I with ink stained fingertips

We’d speak of what it is like to be human
And how devastatingly beautiful self-destruction is
Because you had holes in your arms and I had lines on my hips
And there really wasn't much to say
Other than how the skies looked like smoke and dioxide vomit
Pooling onto our broken pupils
Sic transit gloriaI’ve realised that life is like a kaleidoscope
Different fragments interlocking and interchanging and overlapping
But in the end
They’re all just broken disjointed shards
Haphazard pieces of coloured plastic and blurred retinas
And he was like the seaYour eyes are like the sea
Wild, frenzied and brilliant
Each and every freckle that dusts your cheeks
makes up a new constellation
As you whisper sweet nothings to the wind

You are a wild child, unruly and hormonal
You say that you are in love
Butyouusethatwordfartoooftenthatitdoesntsoundrealanymore
And I truly wonder if you can decipher the difference between
L.O.V.E and L.U.S.T
Because they both sound the same

You run on beds of daisies
And hide beneath trees and bushes
The sun hitting the freckles on your pale spine
Letting the birds hear your lonely boy song
To another nameless face beneath you
I've lost count of your man
pyromaniacI set the sky on fire
I watched the stars burn
I smiled while the moon turned to ash...
Ingenue (A naive young woman.)I told you cardboard wings weren't meant to bend and break
Branded in glitter and peacock feathers
You tried to make something of me
But I am pigeon toed and unruly crow feathered hair

Polaroid facades are no longer mediocre enough
And wishing trees are just a lie
We aim for shooting stars flying across your veins
And I can taste ash strewn across your arteries
You said I tasted like moth balls and lavender

Somehow we've learnt to love
Yet deep dish pizza and cheap linoleum floors
Seem to glitter with false hope
We were evanescent, a fleeting daydream
Because you are driven with testosterone and fizzy pop
And I'd rather dance
I Comfort MyselfWith a warm drink, whispering secrets to my own reflection.

The struggles that plague me, though none may know,

Are only for the ears of my quiet mirror, who smiles

Softly, warmly and with care. He tells me, I'm fine

I've done well for now and soon I may finally rest.

Though the silence continues to press upon me,

Weighing upon my soul like an iron crate.

Still I find comfort in whispering secrets,

If only to my own reflection - holding a warm drink...

-Chen Yuan Wen, 17th October 2012
Mors AtraDust motes gathered in the corners of her lips
Bruised and rotting her mottled lungs fell apart
The skin of her wrists were smudged with pretty pink roses
And below her dissolving pupils just above the plains of her cheekbones
Were streaks of yellowed pages and posies
And ten days later she fell asleep under a bed of earth and soil
Orange JuiceI choked on orange juice today
as I cried for myself at the kitchen table,
remembering the last letter
you wrote—how it created a barrier between
the small hours we'd spent scraping our backs
against tree trunks and now.

I told myself I wouldn't shed a tear
but I was always a good liar.  
I cannot make myself forget our conversations
at the edges of street corners, where we sat
feeling the sun paint our skin red, asking why
our hopes got cut out of us as children
and whether friendships lockets meant anything.

It might have been better if we'd never met.
It certainly would have been easier.
But at one time I would h
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More from ~grew-up-a-screw-up

wishesyou smile a smile that never wavers
your confidence never ceases.
your bubblieness is overpowering
your laugh is never ending.
you are the person i wish i was
you are the person who i want to be.
i am the person who hides in the shadows
and lies.
you are truely happy
you never lie.
i wish i could be like you
but not all wishes come true
the pastsometimes the past never lets you go foreward
it keeps you trapped.
it never lets you move on
it just makes you remeber the pain.
it haunts you
and no matter how hard you ignore it.
its still there
its remains burned in you memories.
its maddening
it chokes and drowns you in a wave of pain.
leaving you broken
but sometimes you can move foreward.
you just need help.....
sadnesssadness its painful.
everyone feels it
some feel it lightly
others feel it so much they feel like breaking...
sadness is painful
it hurts.
it destroys.
it is brought on by the simplest things
its clutches leave some broken.
and sometimes people heal
when others dont....
sometimes the damage is too great
but those who do heal have the scars.
sadness drowns you
it chokes you.
and sometimes sadness stays with you
it doesnt let go.
sadness is a powerful thing
sometimes it doesnt let you go foreward it stops you.
like a booklife is kinda like a book.
it has a begining
just like people.
and life has a story
just like a book.
full of memories.
their is always the climax
when people make choices in life.
then their is a resoulotion
this is when that person decides what to do.
finally the end
when a person finally finishes their story.
but the memories are kept alive
by passind down the story.
from generation to generation.
so life really is like a book.
lostshe is lost inside
never to be found.
she cries herself to sleep
and screams herself awake.
yet no one sees the broken girl
they call friend.
she hides her pain
covers it up with a plastred smile.
her laugh is hollow
her smile is dead.
yet everyone falls for this simple facade
or do they?
she is lost no matter what
and its too late for anyone to save her.
she is already lost within
drowning in her pain.
she is lost inside.
lonely girlshe is lonely
no one sees her.
she has too many problems
that she cannot share.
the isolation is maddening
she sits alone.
she counts the days on her fingers
waiting for the pain to cease.
the lonliness grows
the pain tears her apart.
she is lonely
but it never shows.
she has friends
she has a home.
but it doesnt stop the pain
it doesnt end the suffering.
she sits in a dark corner
beacause she is a lonely girl.

Featured in Groups:

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September 23, 2012
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Anonymous

:icongrew-up-a-screw-up:

I am the girl who hides between moth eaten paper backs
And slips into bookstores and devours leather bound spines
I am chloroform lips bitten down, red and rosy
Ink stained finger tips that fold book pages between my pupils

I'm the girl who drowns herself in coffee and cough drops
While remaining curled between Tennyson and Steinbeck
Wasting days wondering why grass is green
And how it can be greener for others and not I

Then I realized its all artificial food colouring
And polystyrene picket fences
Sticky notes yellowed at the edges reminding myself how to smile
I've pasted them on my skin in makeshift paper Mache armour
But like all mangled words I will be thrown inside a wastebasket
Saved for a rainy day
Add a Comment:
 
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:iconscorpionholiday:
~ScorpionHoliday Apr 27, 2013
ahh, I loved this. I think we need more people like that. the kind of people who think constantly. who hurt because they yearn for something greater than what they have. I understand that.
Reply
:icongrew-up-a-screw-up:
~grew-up-a-screw-up Apr 29, 2013  Student General Artist
Well, if your a person like that, and I am then aren't there enough? you don't have to be surrounded by a sea of people to feel comfort, sometimes one person is enough, don't you think?
Reply
:iconscorpionholiday:
~ScorpionHoliday Apr 30, 2013
it's true. we don't. just having one other person who understands is enough. :)
Reply
:icongrew-up-a-screw-up:
~grew-up-a-screw-up May 3, 2013  Student General Artist
I couldn't agree more c:
Reply
:iconhockeymask:
~hockeymask Apr 10, 2013
I like it.It has some good imagery,I like the idea of post it notes as armour.The paper theme continues throughout .It has a lot of merit.I enjoyed reading it and mentally toying with it.Cheers!
Reply
:icongrew-up-a-screw-up:
~grew-up-a-screw-up Apr 10, 2013  Student General Artist
Thank you for taking the time to read my poem and comment on it, I'm glad you enjoyed it so much.
Reply
:iconpapernation:
~PaperNation Mar 28, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I can identify with a lot of this poem...
Reply
:iconindigo-moon-shadow:
~Indigo-Moon-Shadow Jan 28, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
I really enjoyed the ending!
Reply
:icontalvipaivanseisaus:
*talvipaivanseisaus Jan 26, 2013
This is one of my favorite poems that I've ever read here on dA. You've captured the feeling of being an outsider and elsewhere extremely well.
Reply
:iconkarinta:
~Karinta Jan 23, 2013  Student General Artist
So evocative.
Reply
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