[x]

my casing shines bright when polished…..

LOOK!

pretty…….

[touch]

but they don't touch me…..they see the cracks in my soul that glare white like the skeletons dancing in my closet who feast while i starve, mocking me as they dance around the ritual fire of my past………

five, six, seven, eight…..

stumble…..

[fall]

and they don't leave…..they stay……and they stand….and they stare……..prodding me with their hate while throwing their own bones at me

HATE ME!!!

HATE ME LIKE I HATE YOU!!!

i want to hate them……..i need to hate them…………

let me hate you………….

alas, they mock me, they dance, they feast on the anger to stay alive and let me starv

-RUDEDYET-

8 a.m.

"Good morning Mary".

She is ambushed from the time she steps foot into the parking lot. She reminds herself to breathe.

(Don't talk to me.)

She nods and starts her inner coach. (Come on, you can do it.)

"Good morning Mary".

Her chest tightens. She reminds herself to breathe and exhales loudly. Her badge ruins her outfit and she hates it.

(Do we HAVE to talk?)

She smiles.

"Good morning Mary".

Her morning xanex begins to take effect. They knew better than to expect her to stop and chat. She grabs his Wall Street Journal and gets back on the elevator.

"Good morning Mary".

(Quit talking to me.)

The elevator seemed to mak

Hellbeast Part 1I was never very good with pets. At the age of five, my loving parents thought it would be a good idea to buy me a hamster. I loved my hamster. I named it, quite originally, Hammy. I would play with Hammy. I would laugh as Hammy scampered in his little hamster wheel. I would also let Hammy out of his cage sometimes, to let him roam free. He never ran away. He was a good hamster.

Then one day, upon entering my room, I noticed that Hammy had soiled the carpet. I was quite unhappy about this, but became even more distressed when my beloved pet, under questioning, obstinately refused to confess to its vile deed. As punishment, I senten

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Submitted: June 20, 2003
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--mirage--

by `devilicious, Jun 20, 2003, 10:14:53 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I no longer know who I am.

I decorate my shell as the mirage I suspect you yearn to swim in, entranced with
the quench of feminine attention, unconcerned with the slug inside.

I can’t share what I don’t have.

So yes, drinks, dinner, or just your time,
Stare into my eyes, gawk at my body but please…….don’t look at me.

I turn to dust in silence.

I’m an open book, in a language you’ll never comprehend…..a public statue whose reference you don’t recognize yet use as a landmark of your experience.

Feel the braille on my lips.

So leave me here, in your fantasy, in your dream, in your darkness……its where I feel the safest anyway......

--mirage--by `devilicious

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

a personal poem....

my image, my words

Heart

mary

~echo-si Sep 30, 2007 Writer

"Feel the braille on my lips" is an entirely brilliant image. It is sensual and deep and unforgiving.

`devilicious Sep 30, 2007 Professional Photographer

its truly one of my most personal and best written works

thanks for reading it

truly

~kharas Sep 29, 2007 Hobbyist Digital Artist

Excellent.

~candy21candy Mar 12, 2007

this

`devilicious Mar 12, 2007 Professional Photographer

thank you - really. its one of the most personal things i've ever written.

~buckmayo Jul 10, 2006 Hobbyist Photographer

!forgotten-thoughts Jan 16, 2005

A lovely expression of the feelings of worthlessness and insecurity women, and men feel about attempted romantic impressions.

Truly a beautiful piece.

I applaud you.

-Miranda

~syntheticmessiah Feb 6, 2004

*left in awe*

~Septuagent Oct 3, 2003

wish i could see with your eyes tonite...

~serenityspirit Sep 27, 2003

Mary- I'm glad I got to read this. This is very powerful and I understand why you don't post a lot of your writing. If you did, I think you'd have my crying/breaking down emotionally a lot more than I do. Your work is in essence....powerful. There is no other way I can think of describing it.

The line "the quench of feminine attention, unconcerned with the slug inside." is very poetic. I have never seen the word slug used so perfectly....

Thanks

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