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About Literature / Hobbyist TaylorFemale/United States Groups :iconburdenedhearts: BurdenedHearts
Uniting, Supporting, Surviving
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a black hole (i.e. mirrored images)
face yourself in the mirror
red cheeked and smiling, have
you ever wondered why blush is just blood congealing
beneath the skin cells or rouge made of lead
my antithesis, my partner in crime
my faithful cut and dry, bone dry,
fish bones stuck in throat
you are my vocal chords twisted like ribosomes stuck in an internment of itself AN ANTITHESIS
or are you just the "i'm sorry" trying to crawl out my mouth
i'm just playing my part
you say i'm just like your mother and you're right but fuck
i'm your lover
a replacement box lined with fuzzy peach navels and
naval ships crashing on shores
i'm tired of being your mom
i'm tired of cleaning up after you when
the cyclone stops in the middle of the room
damaged goods scattered
you untouched i am not untouchable
i am your antichrist
false lover
i'm staring at the mirror
no image stares back
are you my anti poet or should i just assume
you aren't there
as usual
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 23 7
promise me
"how much do you love me?"
"i love you more than the stars,
more than the sand, more than the
water of a man
quenched, parched from desert storms
drenched in the sweat of
one thousand egyptian slaves—
i'm a slave to your heart, and i love you
more than i love dreams and 
watching falling leaves on a fall evening,
we're a team and i love you more
than i love my mother,
i love you more than any other i had
ever waited for, that's how much
i love you."
"how much do you love me?"
"i love you more than life itself,
of course,
i love you like the sun loves its planets,
or how the planets follow the sun
wherever she goes.
i love you more than i love the stars
in your eyes because i love you."
"how much do you love me?"
"i love you more than anyone else,
unlike anyone else, that's why you're still here
but can you please stop asking how
much because one day i'll run out of words."
"how much do you love me?"
"i love you so much,
so much."
"how much do you love me?"
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 31 4
is this a love letter or a suicide note?
is this a love letter or a suicide note?
when you constantly cradle midnight stars
in your mind like flickers of hope against the
great black window (space)
are you dabbling in insomnia or are your fears
too loud to buzz out the white noise
if the ocean is made out of sea salt then
when you can’t crumple the sobs in your
lungs anymore then just lay down and
close your eyes and imagine the waves
rolling over your skin
drowning you until you can’t
see the blurry faces anymore
they tell you that when your fingers shake and tear
at the base of your palm trying to
make blood pool somewhere
to take a marker and make art on your sulfuric skin
like acid drips on a strip changing colors of a chameleon
like maybe they’ll love you if
you can just blend into the background
like you always do
you sit and write lead-heavy letters to no one
in the quietest part of the night
in a notebook entitled in blocky letters
“keep calm and smile on”
as if a smile a
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 37 30
the sound you make when you're dreaming
You are my bone structure—
The cartographer of my vertebrae;
One, Two, Three, Four,
Your fingers walk the trail of veins leading to my entropic heart.
When I found you, you only knew of desert heat,
The cool liquidity of hot metal burning down your throat.
I am chattering teeth and blue skin,
I pressed myself against your chameleon body and
Breathed life into you like the way you wrapped around my
Mousy fingers and held my hand when my skull was
Collapsing into itself.
Your hands smooth wings into my shoulder blades and
Weave gold into the strands of my chocolate hair.
You bring me earth so that one day I may be able
To stand upon it. I am the flower that you cultivate.
When you dug me from the arms that dragged me
Six feet under, I smelled of cigarette smoke and
The liquor store down the street;
But now when I shower, the water doesn’t have to scrape
Skeins of my skin every time I soak myself in flora.
Every time it breaks, you take the chambers of my heart and
Squeeze ele
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 29 8
the dissection of matricide
the first thing you have to learn is how
if you pull and mold your nose with
your fingers, it will shape the cartilage
in slopes and thin streams to allow
the slimy species of  scaly fish
to reproduce and (meiosis)
in the paper thin skin that separates
a chapter from a novel
people do not smell like roses when
they wake up and they don’t keep
their fingernails clipped the way
you do - instead they wake up with
the leftover taste of rum rolling around
in their mouth, forgetting
that they called you at three in the
morning to wonder why you
never kissed them back that one time,
and how you got out of that
ticket when a cop pulled you over for
speeding because your tears
were never sad, they were rubber
burning on the streets, the cacophony
of nebulous bathroom tile sobs;
projectile vomit;
eleven-hundred pixels and miles per
hour and you still can’t fly
the second thing you have to learn
is that you must wear your
culture like a badge until he peels
your skin away like th
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 88 36
Maybe Someday
The closet is dusty and dark. It smells of old wood. Your tiny, bare legs are pressed against the cloth of my uniform, but I can still feel the heat that you emit. The only thing I can see in the shadows is the edge of your jaw line, the faint color of your skin. I ask God to let me touch you one more time, but my limbs feel too heavy to move. Our breathing is synchronized.
“I wanted to be a doctor.”
“Hush,” I tell you. Your small hand finds mine in the dark.
“I wanted to help people. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” The laugh that comes out of your mouth is heavy and self-deprecating. Your seams are busting.
Our hands tangle together and I pull our interlocked fingers to my lips to kiss your skin. I can feel you shake against me, your little bones rattling in my own. My palm engulfs yours and I remember how small and weak you really are. Sometimes I forget. Sometimes you seem so grown up and I have to remind myself that you are still just a
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 20 16
Discotheque. Birth, Disk Three
track 7 - kin.
you are water.
things move through you like
osmosis; you give them
life and they take yours.
you do not know how, sometimes,
to pick yourself back up again,
but you do it anyway because
you are self-sufficient,
she looks just like you.
that baby girl by your side who
ought to be the child you
hold in your arms after birth
because you labored for her.
you saved her life.
but who the fuck is you?
knowledge is hard to comprehend
when no one else knows it.
no one knows you like you
know you.
they say you can’t love someone
until you learn to love yourself
but the problem is
that you don’t even know
if you are the embodiment of mary or
the son anymore.
you bind your bones until
they crack with gravel and turn
to sand to wash away whenever
the ocean waves
roll across it.  the tides smooth
you out and make you into
cut glass,
edges hardened and sharp.
never fret.
those who look past the bleeding
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 18 6
Box Life
It was a sticky summer night.  She smelled like chlorine that floated in her hair and she wore only a bathing suit bottom that tied in strings around her hips and a flannel shirt in a pattern of blue and red, unbuttoned, only barely hiding her breasts.
I considered her like a balloon.  She would swell and swell and swell and she would pop!  Pop.  Her pieces would scatter around my floor like newspaper stories, sputtering vomit and rumors of disgust and self-hatred.  The skin around her eyes were always swollen with bruises, veins broken from hypersleep, a statis.  She was homeostasis.  Or maybe I was hers.  Like a bad relationship, and we held hands in the car when she smoked and ash flittered through the window.
She hunted down gossip like they were ghosts, and ghosts like they would remember her life story and save her from making mistakes.  I found ghosts in family pictures and dinner tables that were never ate at, but she liked the whisp
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 27 14
My Formal Suicide Note
What is truth?
If you think about it, fact is still just opinion.
The truth is something that man has made,
That humans have told and labeled
As right.
If we were all that powerful,
We could march straight up into heaven
And kill God.  We could be God.
But humans are monsters.
We are all just muscle tissue and bones
Inside bags made of flesh.
Are souls true?
What does it mean to be true, anyway?
The truth is what we have made it.
So what is the truth?
Is it true that I am living?
Is it true that we are awake and alive
At this very moment,
Breathing in with every thump our heart makes
In our chest?
Or are we all just dead,
Feet planted like seeds in a garden;
I am looking forward to being washed away
By the ocean and my
Matter composition bringing new life into this world.
I was never meant to be a mother.
But is it true that every second of the day
I am closer to death?
I am on the edge of something,
I can feel it seeping into my being.
Real, or imagination?
Ghost, or glory?
I hav
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 20 17
goddess divine
She smelled like the ocean.
I found her naked, flecks of sand covering her skin like a heavy blanket.  Her hair was twisted up in a haphazard braid, tangled strands hanging in chunks from her face.  She was not beautiful.  Actually, she was beautiful in a sort of tragic way.
It didn’t seem as if she sat by the rocks.  It was as if she had decided to stay and the rocks arranged themselves around her.  She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around herself as if she could magically become smaller and smaller.
When I stretched my hand toward her and asked her name, she laughed.  Her hand was cold in mind as I helped her from her resting place.  She didn’t care to wipe the sand from her body.
Then, she thanked me and started toward a trail off the nearby highway, and I never got her name.
It wasn’t romantic.  I wasn’t a sailor who found his creature of the sea or anything.  I was an artist who painted
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 29 13
Discotheque. Birth, Disk Two
track 4 - brother.
blood ain’t shit.
how much have you watched spill?
you learned from an early age that people
do change, from your father from your
mother from your sister sister and sister.
you have so many pieces to fit into
your puzzle and you have no problem
spilling them onto the floor
to put them back into order.
that’s just how you are, huh.
you find pieces of gold shimmering
in the river
and you don’t hesitate to grab,
even if the end result is just fool’s gold.
your ribcage is made up of bones you’ve
ripped from the suffering.
you built yourself into people who
need you, people who strive forward,
(but you don’t mind picking those up
who fall behind.)
you’ve taken their skin and wrapped
yourself up in a coat of it,
trying somehow to walk their roads
for them,
but ultimately, at the end of the day,
all you want to do is
take their pain away, brotha’.
and you can’t, and it feels like with
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 17 7
here's to looking at you by A-Lovely-Anxiety here's to looking at you :icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 12 31
you were always alone
"sometimes i wonder, you know."
"i guess if you really cared."
"i didn't know you."
"i think you did, to an extent.  or you could've stuck around to learn at least."
"but you were never honest."
"i told you i that i would open up to you."
"but you don't.  you never did.  even if i had asked you to i would've had to push for it.  to see the you underneath."
"then why didn't you?"
"i got tired of pushing."
"you got tired of me."
"i got tired of pushing."
"so you gave up on me.  bottom line, you didn't want me."
"that's kinda piss poor, dontcha think?"
"i gave you everything i had.  everything you asked of me.  selflessly, i poured all my effort and care into no one but you because you needed it desperately and what you gave me was like a hotel room - i enjoyed myself until you made me leave."
"i gave you things."
"you gave me care and kindness but you also gave me half a person because you were always craving intima
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 29 7
Come Back Home
We twined our stubby fingers together.
"But I'm still older,"
you would say.  You started school
a year early.
"Not barely," I would say and
stick out my tongue.
Smug little smile on your face,
you tore your fingers
away from mine and raced
me through the fields, and I
could never keep up with you.
Suddenly, you are eighteen.
You don't even know what you want
to do with your life but you
go through it joking and having fun
because you are happy, even
through the worst of it.
Your best friend gets into weed.
He drinks every night.
You know you shouldn't,
but when he hands you a bowl
you can't help but try it.
And that's where you went wrong.
You tried it.
When your father found out, he told his friends,
"I could probably handle anything but burying my son."
When I told you I needed a partner for
ballroom classes, you volunteered immediately,
saying that you had always
wanted to learn how to dance.
And I laughed because, isn't that funny,
that someon
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 28 9
Discotheque. Birth, Disk One
track 1 - eomma.
you were a sinner long before she
entered your life - pregnant at eighteen
with a man who shoved you into
tables before you called it quits, you
gave birth to a beautiful baby boy who
instilled in you the reparations
of loving an autistic child.
you met the love of your life when he
drove to florida in one night to pick you up
and bring you home six months
after you had broken up with him.
like children still finding their way, you lived
with his mother and her husband and your
baby cradled in your arms, a full house of one
two three four five.
you rung the skin of his arms red, didn’t you,
when he would throw tantrums and
you didn’t know how to escape the constant
retardation of the child you pushed from your hips
with a kiss from his father’s lips.
and then you tried again.
the fear of failure at the fact that your
first child wasn’t right had you in the bed
of the hospital again, your stomach ripe as you
:icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 21 19
another gpoy by A-Lovely-Anxiety another gpoy :icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 8 23


Lost Somewhere by Heylenne Lost Somewhere :iconheylenne:Heylenne 1,844 37 Farewell by wlop Farewell :iconwlop:wlop 5,252 99 Remember Me~ by GUWEIZ Remember Me~ :iconguweiz:GUWEIZ 8,702 200
i go to sleep:
there's blood staining my dress again,
roses blooming on white cotton
sticky to the touch.
i can taste metal behind my teeth
and my pink - tinted haze leaves me
was i drinking it? the blood, the blood,
was i drinking it?
there's your hand on the inside of my thigh again
the blood doesn't bother you, wolf,
teeth shiny with spit mouth greedy for more
hands rough hands harsh hands dirty
my skin clean your hands dirty your hands
my skin
remember that i am clean
wolf mouth,
you like the taste
wolf mouth,
there's blood there's blood there's blood
i wake up:
living room is sour with stale chinese food,
there's a fork stuck in the carpet.
blood stained dress
was really just wine.
:iconbrokenfragilethings:brokenfragilethings 6 9
f a h r e n h e i t by raikoart f a h r e n h e i t :iconraikoart:raikoart 4,398 111 Planet Girls by Saccstry Planet Girls :iconsaccstry:Saccstry 1,613 78 Suspenders by Kuvshinov-Ilya Suspenders :iconkuvshinov-ilya:Kuvshinov-Ilya 9,478 128 Alone by burningmonk Alone :iconburningmonk:burningmonk 570 66 Emotions by ryky Emotions :iconryky:ryky 2,618 61
I don’t want to become a statistic,
because one in five bipolar people
escape their emotions by taking
themselves out of the game
or quit school because its a game they can’t play.
I don’t want to see the eyes of my school teacher
as she tells me the words I’m forcing out
can’t force my grades to go up as my mood went down.
I don’t want to text you at 4 am to tell you
I love you because my hypomania wants me
to have the confidence to try at something
I never really had.
I don’t want to describe my symptoms to
my therapist as colors because I don’t want
the high white and the low blue to paint my entire canvas.
I want a abundance of mixes.
I don’t want to see my fathers eyes as
he opens the door and sees me curled up,
so frozen solid as he scrambles to find
the answers to make me thaw.
I don’t want to figure out my family tree anymore,
to think about if they gave me healthier roots
that could give me limbs with more buds to
:iconpuddlethecat:puddlethecat 60 30
+You are the One+ by larienne +You are the One+ :iconlarienne:larienne 3,402 214 With you every day is a dream by zarla With you every day is a dream :iconzarla:zarla 2,774 363 Misty and Staryu by Windnstorm Misty and Staryu :iconwindnstorm:Windnstorm 6,270 1,092 Undertale Triptych by Kuvshinov-Ilya Undertale Triptych :iconkuvshinov-ilya:Kuvshinov-Ilya 6,787 195 Jade cosplay by wlop Jade cosplay :iconwlop:wlop 3,508 158 All Wrong by DestinyBlue All Wrong :icondestinyblue:DestinyBlue 10,564 507
i graduated high school
i moved to california
i wrote some bad stuff that i'll probably post
i became an adult
i still cry myself to sleep at night but im working on that
and i really wanna get back into deviantart
i'm planning on being more active 

tldr; i'm back everyone hiiiiii did you miss me?

in other news, i'm in a really bad situation and i've started a gofundme to raise about $2k so that i won't cry myself to sleep at night.  i have a lot of people here who care (albeit i've been gone for awhile) so if you guys could share my thread around, it would be great!

here's my gofundme

thanks everyone for sticking around.  hope you guys are ready for a massive DUMP of writing!!

please talk to me, i've missed you all.  i'm hoping to get back into lit finally.

stay blessed!!


A-Lovely-Anxiety's Profile Picture
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
taylor | 18 | california

i need time to get it right



Add a Comment:
nightshade-keyblade Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
:iconhappybirthdaysignplz: :aww:
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday, dearheart. :heart:
saints-fan-12 Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2016   Writer
Happy birthday!
ithaswhatitisnt Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
happy birthday, taylor!! :tighthug: :heart: :iconrainbowcakeplz: i hope you're having a lovely day!! :squee:
ryuu-samazx Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2016  Hobbyist
happy birthday Birthday cake  icon
azuline-furcula Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2016
your lit tag makes me think of magic.
A-Lovely-Anxiety Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
thank you so much :heart:
azuline-furcula Featured By Owner Sep 18, 2016
my pleasure.
ss4chris Featured By Owner Jan 31, 2016
You're popular on here.
A-Lovely-Anxiety Featured By Owner Jan 31, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
i'm popular anywhere i go, stud.
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