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About Literature / Hobbyist Member Jade20/Female/United States Group :iconghosts-of-literature: Ghosts-Of-Literature
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Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
College Student -- Future Engineer -- Hopeless Romantic

just a 20 year old girl trying to find her way through life one mistake at a time.

i love all types of art. traditional art is my favorite but digital art is a close second. i'm addicted to watercolors. crocheting is now my favorite pastime. oh, and poetry. yeah, if you haven't already noticed it's kinda important to me. losing it would be like losing an arm. or a leg. not a foot though.

there shouldn't be anything else you need to know but feel free to drop me note anytime. i'm always here to talk.
  • Mood: Lonely
  • Listening to: Animals - Maroon 5
  • Reading: Calculus HW
  • Watching: Sailor Moon Crystal
  • Playing: Hexiled
  • Eating: Dinner
  • Drinking: Water
Hey lovelies~

So I'm doing a round of features as inspired by d-e-l-e-t-e-d

Just drop me a comment below and I'll feature my 3 favorite pieces from your gallery or you can even recommend deviants for me to feature. I'll do 20 features in total. If you do comment I'd appreciate it if you passed it on and did a similar journal starting with me. 

1. d-e-l-e-t-e-d 

ocean spraymy languid blood flows in my veins, drunk off
the sweat lacing your goddess skin. the sea
hides behind the shadows in your eyes, reflecting
the power of the bare moon. i am captivated
by the heaviness of your body, the symphony
of your tongue against mine -- you worship me
in a language i don't understand, but together
we wax strong under the star speckled sky.
   ConnectionsI rifle through the vinyls, letting my touch linger on each one before moving on. They all feel cold and lifeless, inhuman and unfeeling. I can sense a faint call in the base of my brain, a plea for companionship. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, trying to pinpoint where it's coming from. My hand hovers over the bin to my right before I reach in, my movements cautious. My fingers glide against a cover, and this one feels different than the others. I pull it out, sliding the case off and turning the record in my hands. It's old, and I can see the lines where its previous owner placed the needle. Some parts are denser than others where the song was played hundreds of times.
The cashier looks at me strangely when I bring it to the front, no doubt wondering why I didn't get any of the vintage, mint condition, collectible records. She asks whether I want a bag and I decline, opting to carry the vinyl close to my heart as I walk home. The sky above is grey, and I can smell an oncoming
   rusty mirrorsthe decay of champagne on your breath tastes
like salt and fire, a fever dancing to the rhythm of
broken glass. you and i are ghosts haunting ruins
in a poisoned ocean -- composed of marble, smoke
and steel, we are prisoners in this concrete universe.

2. DragonKeeper92 

War StatueSee the horse, standing alone?
In the shallow light, of a single lamp?
Snow in his saddle, in place of a rider.
Cries of defeat ring form his lips,
and memories of blood stain his eyes.
His ears are filled with dying screams,
and his heart lay still, unmoving and unyielding.
Tired hooves, after years of marching forward , finally stand on pedestal, where someone will notice his once great deeds.
Stories and legends hide in his breast,
where gawking eyes with never see,
where sculptors even, will never find.
   UntitledWe think of broken sunrises,
coated in a cherry blossom,
and showered down with dew.
Memories from last night and little flying lights,
they haunt my mind
and I try to escape, but there is no running, no hiding from the sun.
No matter how hard I try, time will keep on passing,
and the more that it does, the more my heart will shatter.
Then dusk falls down upon us, and we think of childhood memories,
our minds cluttered with snowmen and forts,
little games we played,
new scooters, a new bike.
All of it is meaningless.
All of it is trash,
all of it becomes my nightmares,
and when night comes around to put us down for sleep tonight,
I won't forget the good times,
but my heart will feel what you did,
my heart will feel so broken,
like all the times before.
I wish that I were dead sometimes.
Because now the sunrise comes again,
and the memories from the night before are haunting,
the memories of tears that are proven on my cheeks.
Now I want to be dead,
to forget you and your tormenting eye
   Like the OceanMaybe we should love like the ocean does.
Maybe whenever we leave for the shortest of times, we always come back.
We should need a hand to pull us up when we can't,
and maybe we should become stronger, the longer we are awake.
Maybe we shouldn't stop beating, shouldn't stop moving,
because if we do, our minds will wander away from love,
from what really matters,
from what's really important.
Maybe we should receive love like the shore.
Maybe we should always wait until our love comes back,
we should stand unwavering while they break us down relentlessly.
Maybe we should be swayed and molded and guided by our love.
Maybe we should let them drag us away, but always come right back,
and maybe we should go deeper, into the depths of the love,
and never come back.
maybe one day we should say we're leaving, and never come back the same way.
Maybe we should love like the ocean does,
love because the loss of love hurts more than a shot to the heart.
But maybe that's a good thing, because than

3. Jallarial 

Untitled by Jallarial  Zigzagging in the shade by Jallarial   Call it autumn or fall, you should have a ballMy father's Skype status is "fall season has finally arrived". It was something he put up more than a year ago--all year round, it was irrelevant, until autumn came back again and lo and behold, the status had meaning again.
I found other meaning in that status, too. My father is in his fifties, my mother is in her forties. I can safely say that they count as "middle aged"; they are in the autumn of their lives. They are the last generation to grow up without a cell phone. They can no longer party as hard as they used to. Naptime is sacred and inviolable. The quirks of a settled and routine life characterise their existence.
They are also in the autumn of their marriage: in the spring they wed, in the summer they planted and raised, and now in the autumn it is time to reap what they sowed all those years ago. I am talking, of course, about raising children. My brother and me. Both of us are adults in our early twenties now.
They say sixty (or is it fifty?) is the youth of old age. The

4. abrizelle 

toxic townI’ve lost my ability
To turn my pain
Into beautiful words
Or maybe
My pain just
Isn’t so beautiful anymore
Either way,
It’s so hard dealing with all of this
And no longer having anyone
To tell it to
The very people
I would have gone to
Are the ones shutting me out
They’re the ones causing
This crushing abyss of loneliness
And I don’t think a single fucking one of them
Realizes how I’m feeling
I shouldn’t have to explain
To the people who claim to love me unconditionally
That I feel turned away
When they all gather at a friend’s place
And “forget” to invite me
I shouldn’t have to spell out
To the people who swore they’d always be there for me
That I don’t feel like I can come
To any of them anymore
With my sorrows
I don’t want people to think
That I’m spending all of my time with him
And shutting everyone else out
I just shouldn’t feel alone
When surrounded by a crowd
Of my “friends
   distance is a state of mindthe skies are heavy and gray
    as if even the heavens are weeping for us
sometimes I feel so close to you
    despite the miles between our beds
(like when it's two am and
I have school in the morning
and we've been on the phone
for five hours and we still
haven't grown tired of the
sound of each other's voices)
(or when I roll over in bed and
your shirt presses into my face
and for a moment, my sleepy mind
tricks me into thinking that
i'm lying next to you again)
(or when i'm sick in bed
and not a single person
calls on me to see if i'm
okay, but you talk to me
constantly, making sure
i'm resting like I should
and comforting me more
from another state than
anyone here even attempted)
I would climb mountains, fight armies, brave hurricanes
    to be by your side again
but until then, the sleepy "goodnight"s
after five-hour phone calls
and drifting off with your shirt pressed to my face
breathing in the smell of you mingled with your cologne
   mazei am a rat in a maze
and you, the reward at the end
taunting me,
you are so tantalizing
your voice calls to me like a siren’s
i race around corners,
cover these twists and turns
i am frantic,
for the more i run,
the farther away you seem to get
i don’t want to lose you again

5. Tiramor 

i foughtyour grimy fingers browse my skin
like a late night scroll
through social media
your hoarse voice scratches my ears
just like your fingernails left in my arms
when you restrained me
but I fought
oh, I fought
you crawl through my dreams
the smell of desperation that clung to me
is the same scent I awake with
when you haunt me
you press that knife to my throat
and I awaken to your presence
all over again
but I screamed
oh, I screamed
your body presses against me
I feel the sensation of cool air
but I don't remember losing
my clothes
you whisper to me that
it won't hurt
you won't be long
you just want some fun
and it's alright so long as I do
all you say
but I fought,
oh, I fought
your words are etched in my mind;
pressed into a steel plate
so they will not fade
you're etched into my past
and i'll never forget
oh, i'll never forget
and honestly,
I'm just glad I fought
because one day
I'll be able to let another
touch me
and on today
you will touch
no one else
   youYour fingertips on my body
tracing hearts across my back
tracing "i love you" onto my arms
blowing raspberries on the flab of my stomach
and I sit awake
perched against the wall with my head leaned back
your lips trail down my neck
as I slit my eyes just long enough to light a cigarette
you swat it away,
and force your lips down onto mine
I laugh deep in my throat and exhale smoke into your face
with a smirk that claims life in itself
is grand
you leave galaxies across my skin, ones I can and cannot hide
ones that others could quite easily find and
the bruises fade to a sickening yellow
but in my dreams they're still black and red and
there are still bite marks lining my neck
like when they first happened
another drag and more kisses
and my head is floating
and nothing is screaming there is only
   FaultsFaults are cruel
Everyone sees them day to day, with their very eyes
But in the general tone of things,
It’s only us who see such mediocre, deep ones
In ourselves;
Large noses
Fat on our hips
Dirty tongues and crooked teeth.
Nobody else notices
No one else cares
So why do we?
Why do we fall victims to such a desperate temptation
As hating who we are is?
Why are our minds
Creating faults
That only we can even

6. TheChesherCat 

Post Mortem [Daywrite 6.16.14]Kelly has been left for dead in the alley, her face a bloody mess and her legs broken.  Everything is darkness and pain so much pain but somewhere. Somewhere she remembers who she is. Kelly. Her name was Kelly. Is Kelly. Through the red and black, she tries to gather her mind from the place it has unspooled to, collect the strands that are flung loose on the concrete around her. She cradles her sense of self in her arms, knowing that letting it go is releasing her lifeline. Somehow, in her agony, she clings to life.
She drifts in and out of darkness. Sometimes the light around her seems very bright. Sometimes she has forgotten what it was ever like to see. After a while, she doesn’t hurt anymore. That tangled pile of thread has been wrapped in warmth, and in her dullness she knows she is dying. It’s harder to remember her name, now. K… Kelly. But the word does not fit the creature she is, floating in an endless sea of stars. Kelly means sharpness. Kelly means scr
   GalaxiesIt's not that I feel that
I come from a different world
It's that
I am orbiting this planet.
You keep to the ground
Living your life in shades of blue and gray
While far away
I whisper a story of silver and gold
and dream of the stars
   Keeping TimeWhen the watch was first wound
Its hands leapt forward
Trapped energy released at last
From coiled springs and straining gears
For what seemed like forever, it counted my seconds
Fast moments, and slow ones
When the hours lengthened
And its hands inched towards eternity
There were times, to be sure,
When its ticking was as serene and steady
As a heartbeat
And I let it run for days on end
But before I knew it, the watch stuttered
Its metronome was frenzied, then futile, then fading
Wound only once, the watch waited
And when its gears lost touch and its springs bent too far
The watch clicked once
And stopped.



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Add a Comment:
The-Dream-Book Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the llama!
SleepingInTheShadows Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
You're very welcome. (:
copper9lives Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
I have no idea why I wasn't watching you before now. Situation: rectified! :heart:
SleepingInTheShadows Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:love: :tighthug:
copper9lives Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Theopenpage Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2014
Thankyou for the llama
SleepingInTheShadows Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
You're very welcome. Thank you for the watch. :D
IIOtherworldlyII Featured By Owner Oct 11, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
thank you for the llama, oh lord! I wish I could return the favor; i hope favs and a watch will suffice. Love 
SleepingInTheShadows Featured By Owner Oct 11, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Oh of course! There was no need to return the love though. I really appreciate the watch though. :heart:
IIOtherworldlyII Featured By Owner Oct 12, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Garry Emote (Small) 
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