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I love it when you read to me.Today is the eve of your birth. Generally, one wouldn't know that. Usually, it comes as a surprise. But, your mother is impatient, and she was ready now. Pros and cons. But, it gives me time to say a few things before you come into this world completely unprepared for everything it will throw at you. Tonight is your last night sleeping and growing safely in your mommy's belly. It's your last night of real, true, absolute peace. Peace you will never know so well again. And the first thing I want to tell you, is to enjoy it. Savor it. While you're surrounded by fluid, and every word is muffled, and you feel invincible, take it in and enjoy it. Fall in love with the sound of being closer to someone than will be humanly possible in 24 hours. While you're still in the dark, don't take darkness for granted.
Tomorrow morning the process will begin and you'll be woken up too early and pushed around until you are where the rest of the world needs you to be. This will be the story of your life
Sweet ThingMy skin hurts. Literally, my skin. Not my muscles, or my bones, no. My skin. It's not burnt or calloused or cut. It's sore. My clothes hang around me, and that is all people see. Clothes hanging on bones like a metal hanger. When I pull my belt tighter, my skin pinches my spinal cord and tells my brain I'm in pain. I press my oversized hand to my chest and wait for a knock. I wait too hard, or too long, or something too much, because my skin pinches again. I am sore. My outsides are sore. My cheeks are soft and when I hold them between my fingers they hurt like the rest of me. I have no injuries, or marks anymore. Nothing that obviously, and brutally, and absolutely in your face says that I am injured, but my skin hurts. I can't say it any other way. I don't feel it any other place. My outer shell, my epidermis hurts.
My stomach used to. I woke up the day after we had out first kiss and I threw up. You made me sick a few times. More like too many to count. You are right though, the fir
Obsessive Compulsive DisorderWhen I was little, it use to amaze me how colors were made. In art class I would sit and mix paint because blue and red didn't stay the same when they fell in love. Every single color found its match and danced beautifully as I swirled them together. Black and white were my favorites. I'd pour the creamy paint into a bowl and watch as black and white swirls, turned into grey swirls and owned the container holding it captive. Grey was amazing to me. Because black and white are nothing alike, and grey is in the middle. Black is dark and scary and demanding. And white is graceful, and trusting, and clean. Grey is nothing. Grey is bland. And safe. Grey is careful. And I would do anything to be grey.
Friendship is black and turns to ash in my hands. It is dust, so hard to hold. I am keeping still so none escapes, but it feels like at any moment, the wind will kick up and steal it all away. Every move I make is monitored and judged. I am wary about my words and am second guessing everything.
Saying Goodbye to ChristmasWhen the sun hits the trees just right, I didn't know this, but it looks like the world's on fire. Its rays sneak through the branches and reflect off of cars and land on the table across from me. I'd much rather stare into the street than look around me. Out there I start to feel like a year, even a single night. The wind is chilly and I can feel it past my skin. This sort of thing doesn't happen anymore. This sort of feeling got lost within too many nights leading up to another move. All the boxes and trips and packing is exhausting. And when you do it so often, eventually settling down becomes like unpacking, you only bring out so much, because you know pretty soon you'll just be putting it away again. Moving only a few minutes north, or south or any direction that feels more like home. Only after this many moves, everywhere starts to be another house and nothing will ever feel like the first time.
Not that it matters now, now I'm a tumbleweed and if I ever settle anywhere I can onl
Letting Go or Giving Up?Rain is murdering my window. The wind keeps sounding like a scream and it echoes in my head even after the trees stop casting spooky shadows on my wall. The water streaks the glass and races toward the bottom of the pane, I pick the underdog and I always lose. It's kind of hard to win against gravity. The lightening illuminates my bed and I can see my frame shaking in the storm. Pretty soon my eye lids are heavy and even sooner the sun is up and I slept through shakes and terror and being afraid my house would float away. Afraid that the waters would rise to my second story and my daddy wouldn't hear me scream and worse he wouldn't come to rescue me if he did. When the sun rises in the morning I can never even tell that my bed was home to nightmares, cold sweats, and violent shakes, because, what other way would I child say, I'm scared? When my eyes open and my window is dry and my walls are still purple, even though the night before, they held no color at all, it
PagesThe paper of the book was rugged and used and starting to turn awkward colors from spills and sun and too much life. Corners bent and the edges were all soft like feathers rubbing against the tips of your fingers, or better, your wind burnt cheeks. The binding cracked and little pieces of dust floated into the air and took to the wind. The cover was red once. A beautiful, shining red, vibrant like the blood in my veins. Or so I imagined, as I let them echo out a story. The corners held tears and rips and soft fabric that I think, maybe, once was paper. The middle pages began falling out and tape just wasn't enough to suffice anymore. The ink was faded and smeared and It covered every inch of every page. My fingers ran over its bumpy surface and drank in the words through my skin. I soaked every memory up. I flipped the pages and let the sweet smell of the past fill the air. It was sweet and it was bitter and it filled my senses with regret. Maybe the last page wasn't ready. Maybe the l
Sandcastles Maybe it started when I began placing too much worth on the little white seagulls that fly over the bay. Maybe when the sunshine started being responsible for my happiness everything started to go downhill. Maybe it was the sound of an air conditioner whirring loudly in the background, or the feel of smooth cotton around my bare arms, or the way the warm wood was soft under my feet. I think it probably started with a lot of things. Maybe it started when those little birds started feeling like an excuse to smile at a big body of water. When the rain started lasting longer and the sunshine seemed impossible to find, that was when it started. Maybe. That air conditioner made the whole world cool, only it never reached outside that room. With cold metal frames holding up years of memories. Hours of building a family. So much time spent thinking up jokes and games and things that only half of us would come to remember. And that whir
Make It A Sweet, Sweet GoodbyeI can't even write about the color of his eyes. I can't tell you that they were blue or green or that they sparkled when he talked about love and sports. I can't say he had the greatest smile or that his laugh was enough to make birds sing. I can't say his hugs were out of this world and that receiving one felt like receiving a gift. Like every time was like unwrapping a smile. And maybe that sounds like too much. Maybe that sounds too good. Like whose arms really hold that much heaven. Maybe it sounds too perfect, But these are things I cannot tell you. I can't reminisce his childhood filled with silly tales of dragons and snow ball fights and bus rides. I can't say he grew up gracefully and never faltered in his choice to live as if it was his decision. I want to be able to look back, and smile, and tell you all these things. I want to be able to answer when you ask why I'm crying and paint you a picture of the most beautiful boy. But I can't.
I can tell you only what I know. And the
The Best MotherMy dad doesn't pay me any attention. Oh, poor kid, another wasted individual with daddy issues. I know how it seems. And you're probably right. There isn't anything special about me. No sad story except that I am here, and nobody wants me. My mother is a beautiful woman, and I know she tries to love me. She tries so hard. I know she sees my art work. A talent my father gave me, no doubt. She sees my grades and my great decisions. Trying to live up to Dad's history is tough, but I do my best. I'm rarely out of line. And I know she tries to smile at me and touch my shoulder often enough to make me feel it. She tries to remember talent shows and birthdays. They do a pretty good job. But I can still see the glaze in their eyes when they're attending just to keep me sober. Can't have a failure on their hands. I can see their plastered on smiles when I win some dumb award that doesn't even come close to my father's accomplishments. We are rich because he made it so. We have fame a
Stretched out on the couch
you start to purr
so soft and fluffy
is your fur
eyes so bright
a soft pale green
the coldest nose
I´ve ever seen.
The gait so gracious
full of stealth
a shiny coat
glowing with health.
for you an art
at catching mice
you are so smart.
you can be stubborn
who you´re going to rub on.
you can do real good
and at meal times,
well it´s understood
Only the best
for you we chose
you turn up your nose
but you know
how to bring us round
make us laugh
just fooling around.
We are here
to do your biddin`
we love you so
you´re our little kitten.
written by Suzanne Karbach September 2014
On reflectionOn looking back into your past
thinking how the time flew by,
you stop seeing the important things in life,
while struggling to survive.
Worrying about the future
and the mistakes made long ago,
disturb your peace of mind at present
you just can´t let it go.
Your errors are over and done with,
your past you´ve left behind.
The future ahead is a blank slate
so to yourself be kind
Stop worrying about what might not be
or dwell on your wrongs with regret
best to live in the here and the now
For it´s the key to real happiness.
Written by Suzanne Karbach sept 2014
No more Glory DaysAppropriate behavior will make students soar quickly
Technology controls the student's minds, wasting valuable time
Treating your fellow classmates with respect
Inexperienced students fall behind, destroying their futures
Tick-tock, tick-tock, you are running out of time...
Under the clock's constant melody, it rings throughout your ears
Don't fall behind; time runs out from everyone
Everybody has those days...don't let the failure consume you!
SeptemberSuffering in this world of hate;
Emitting my sorrow through my fate;
Preparing my life for the treacherous fight;
Taming the fury through what I write;
Empowering the voice that’s always screaming,
Marking its words from what I’m dreaming.
Being weak from the torture of the past,
Engraving worded scars that’ll forever last.
Remembering why I keep surrendering
In this month of September,
Where I’ll keep weeping…
Dancing WavesCan I see fire as energy
When I look into the candle
A message from the atom's make
Such beauty I cannot handle
To touch enlightens from contact
But flesh plays paltry passage
So scorn is thrown by cosmic hands
With feelings of burning sage
So touch my gaze that tries to see
Why the tongue speaks to the air
Perhaps to endless waves unseen
That inferior I say is bare
Epiphany then takes me whole
That racks my waking hours
And wrapt as babe in natal womb
My struggle no longer matters
For I will always be upraised
Afloat this sea invisible
The energy I see as flame
So radiates across the sill
Onto my palms where ashy scars
To them I feel no pain
As I breathe in this field of life
Dancing cross my face
Can I see fire as energy
While all its children guide
My mind to its enormity
Encompass all inside
Still I falter in this thought
But forget the angst for now
Because this sea will sail me far
And always I upon the bow
ForetellersTruly there are unknown meadows
Fallen trees left bare and sallow
Distant hills shrunk smaller still
By fingers closed around one's eyes
Flying glass on insect forms
Singing winds as sunlight warms
With so many little creatures
Awakened by the brightened skies
Fellow mystic, stay with me
Let us rest awhile and see
The many dragonflies climb high
Shake dew drops off in crystal rain
Think through windows moving fast
The unknown places of the past
And erstwhile wait in patient mind
The watchers of the moving plain
Do our trails depicted match
As wandering the flecks that snatch
A tapestry thread from aquamarine
Flash to us for moment's fame
I suspect with little will
How wisest beings would be kept still
Intertwined to connate paths
That we foretellers cannot name
But blues are drowned in open sea
And shades of red outwardly bleed
So can my eyes be sharp enough
For future's secrets held beneath
We mysticists deemed capable
Merely inherit the empty stable
And fill each field with flying sh
I Won The FightYou have no power over me, I repeatedly said
As you first struck my face, then my head
I love you so much, you repeatedly said
But rather than let you go, I’ll first see you dead
I love you, you brutally beat out of me
Now convince the world that I am the man of your dreams
For too many years, twin ribbons of guilt and shame tied you to my heart
While sledgehammers of fear and pain tore my world apart
But like an artist, I airbrushed away each unflattering mark
For too many years, I tip-toed through life trying to gauge
Every word I said, every move I made,
Never knowing which would set off your rage
And as the world moved on without me
My one true desire was to be set free
But leaving was far more intimidating than you could ever be
Still, I had no other choice, you see
To save my own life, I’d have to escape
From this prison of torture that you created
So I dug deep and found strength in my soul
And from weakness, I became so very bold
I reclaimed the freedom that you sto
ConfidenceOnly by trying can we find out what is what is wrong and what is right.
Only by risking damn cold shower can we find our true forever lover.
Only by creating our own blend can we meet a lifelong friend.
Only by treating others with respect can we the same of them expect.
Time WanderersIt is that time of day where she must flee
From her cursed eternal hunter:Run!
He wishes to rid her curse and be free
And yet for years he never got it done
She plays all day throughout her adventures
Time-warp point is what she must find after
It's her destiny and curse, only hers
By mistake, he joined the ride forever
He succeeded in finding her one day
And she offered her life, open and true
But he could not kill his desired prey
For he felt pity and something else too
There was strong friendship and love- a connection
That echoes throughout their timeless affection
You Will Drown In The MusicThese lyrics will seduce you
take you anywhere they please
hold tight, it's about to take you under
why even try to breath?
just let it reach you one more time
before you start to leave
This will be the song of a lifetime
let the beat tear open your heart
we live by the smash of a drum
we breathe at the strum of each guitar
just let the song capture you
as soon as the first verse starts
This is how we get out
from under every watchful eye
we take one look at the crowd
than close our eyes and dive
we let the music pull us down
and tear apart our minds
I know you've got to feel this
the beat running through your veins
I can see it in your eyes
it's the only thing keeping you sane
breathe it in a few more times
cause this song will never change
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More