*queenofrelax

let your beauty unfold

Formerly calmandreposed

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the devilted hughes told me
about sylvia’s god,
i’m sure he would agree
upon observation
that you are my satan,
my fire-tongued
angel
sharpening
all my pencils
down to their last inches
and
stealing my pens,
i find their corpses
in my purse
like candy wrappings,
like vampire victims
and when i taste
their blue blood
on the inside of your lips
i know,
you taste like my poetry
that i won’t be able
to write later
when you are on
the other side of town,
getting high
from a blunt you rolled
with my notebook paperthe devil by *queenofrelax

12 Comments

paid prayersthis temple’s up to five pills daily
my christ’s bread
reading from prescription scripture
praying to the pharmacy gods
for refill miracles

turn these pressed powders
into nonrepressible pleasures
brew wonders from the whines

push twist pop sip-
ping the grape juice
of my saviour
medicate me a believer
that after three days of sleep
i can come back to life

but provider,
i do confess
i collect sins
like empty beer bottles
i’m not yet sure i will cash in
because medication
looks like dedication

and devotion
is not something
i want stapled shut
and pricedpaid prayers by *queenofrelax

5 Comments

mirageblack-eyed raccoon
making jackson pollocks
with the trash,
that ain’t eyeliner

and i’d never
paint those striped tails
to look like green finch
and linnet birds
keeping my demons
dreaming

but who am i
to say you don’t
see what you believe

when you could be
a glistening mirage
as i let heaven’s eye
stare off my clothes
crossing deserts
looking for my muse,
hoping it will know me
by my bare skin

because fuck,
i am certain
that needle and ink
could not possibly
leave a stain
when used to write
about what isn’t
really theremirage by *queenofrelax

4 Comments

congestionthere’s prose in my body, a congestion that keeps me
from breaking up with the moon even though
i know we shouldn’t see each other anymore, not like this.
i keep standing up the sun but he still hangs around when i don’t deserve it.
i want to earn that glow, yeah shine on me, yeah help me grow,
taller, wider, richer, brighter,
and i won’t pay you back with flowers but with fruit.
i won’t be your fan but your root, won’t give you breezes but juice
and though i might choke you during sex my heart will only love you loosely.
but don’t read that as getting my dark side, my wane.
and when you wakcongestion by *queenofrelax

5 Comments

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Random from Literature

you're a natural disaster. by ~paperheartsyndrome

131 Comments

the redefinition of right.this is the kind of mistake you always hoped might happen.

it's the sequel backtracking and breathing life into the clay-lungs of your favorite character, the news reporter glancing back at the teleprompter and ten thousand more souls clawing out from the mushroom cloud. it's the kind of mistake that fixes the imperfections and calluses of reality, the kind that smoothes over the ordered lashes.

it's not getting what you deserve, but rather, what you wanted. it's feeding you honey when you were prescribed bitter root, slipping you into satin when burlap was folded at the foot of your bed. it's the kind that scares you, because you know bettthe redefinition of right. by =corina90

113 Comments

polycarbonate nothingssea shells sea shells
by the sea shore, place
your tendons around my
ear drums and allow me
to soar

right into never ending
owl nests and fox dens
and mattresses full of
carcasses and fingernails
hot glued to foreheads and
around ear lobes and in
decorative patterns down
my spine

and count how many
times our fingers
interlock in fields
of fiberglass forevers,
racing through cemeteries
and around tomb stones and
passing first base at dead
uncle sam and laughing

at moths stuck in flight
and deer without antlers
and fathers without wives,
don't you wish

you could be five year
old polycarbonate nothings
on a dailypolycarbonate nothings by ~BlueMeadow193

40 Comments

the play on words: act iact i

scene i:
opening scene, or opening of your
legs. either way something is happening.
curtains spreading, this is no walt disney
dream, this is a tim burton nightmare.
mickey mouse is holding an axe, edward
hearthands is in the making.
car enters stage. mission:
call shot gun.
call a shotgun.
shotgun
got shun[ed].
kill. kill. kill.
what?
this is a shot gun
i got shunned,
death is in order.
oh no not in the first scene,
much later.

scene ii
anne frank found us, is that
saying something.
irony at the least.
so the setting is world war two.
what else is new, this is a constant
world war, rejuvenation of the 1940the play on words: act i by ~BlueMeadow193

29 Comments

new york nun"don't judge a person by their scars;
you don't know how they got them."

forgive me sir,
but i know where you plucked yours.
from transvestites with parrots
-you thought them pirates-
screaming down the street,
free be free be free.

weren't you smacked about
in highschool and lusting
over nuns. walking in
on your parents. left
your shame in your
basement's basement.
but there's nothing freudian
about the way
you start hurricanes

try new york,
maybe you'll finally disappear.

"the rain won't change your mind"

i guess meteors won't change yours.
wont convince
you flashed the wrong smile
hoping for long legs
andnew york nun by ~formaniac

17 Comments

love is like...murmurs from butterfly wings
are the most honest words
of whisper that will ever
touch your ears.
[listen closely; you might
hear their fluttering hearts
breaking for you.]

listen hard;
they're ready to die for you
if it means you'll glance their
way just once.

jealous pickings in your mind
sit with bated breath, watching
for their evanescent bodies to
break down. [pull off their
pretty little wings, you think.

a second set of lashes,
glue their legs to my eyes.
butterfly kisses or
butterfly misses,
try their antennae on for size.]

yeah, put those antennae on
test how they feel on you
test how the butterflies
you tore love is like... by ~Squirrel-23

28 Comments

deviation in storage by *Scarlettletters

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throw away your 'i will writes'

Journal Entry: Sun Apr 28, 2013, 9:20 PM

gettin' real bored of poems that are full of "i will writes", we know you will write, you're a writer, you will always write. whoop-de-doo you're gonna write entire novels about one freckle on your SO's arm, what a fucking treat of a trilogy that will be to people who read!

shut up with your "i will writes".

i wanna know what you're willing to do. that you like to do. that you don't usually do. that you wanna do. that you don't wanna do, that you fucking hate to do. because by god, i bet you love to write. and maybe they love being written about, even if it's about that one fucking eyelash that sticks in a direction different than all the others, even if its about their goddamn clichés.

throw away your "i will writes". crumple them. cross them out. don't begin them.

erase "write" and scribble down sacrifice, cherish, support, encourage, defend, challenge, fuck, love, hold, guide, understand, spoil, help, introduce, share.

and then throw those away too and just fuckin' do them.

[wrote this on my tumblr a couple days ago, decided it needed to go here]

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Mood: Spring Fever
Listening to: say anything
Drinking: water

More Journal Entries

deviantID

*queenofrelax

Canada

nineteen-year-old girlie who's not that interesting.
i write and try to be a good human.

Interests

hiroshima (excerpt by sarah kay)

when i meet you, in that moment,
i am no longer a part of your future.
i start quickly becoming a part of your past.
but in that instant, i get to share your present,
and you, you get to share mine,
and that is the greatest present of all.

so if you tell me i can do the impossible
i'll probably laugh at you.
i don't know if i can change the world--yet,
because i don't know that much about it. and i don't know
that much about reincarnation, either.
but if you make me laugh hard enough,
sometimes i forget what century i'm in.

this isn't my first time here. this isn't my last time here.
these aren't the last words i'll share.
but just in case, i'm trying my hardest
to get it right this time around.