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Literature
Love Him
he walks onto the stage, and it's-
lights, lights, lights.
blinding at first, his eyes adjust.
to the scene before him.
--
he grabs the microphone,
a proper introduction would be nice.
instead he shouts
HELL FUCKING YEAH!
and it is okay, because everyone knows
who they are anyway.
--
he's singing.
singing.
screaming.
and their singing, singing, screaming along.
--
he feels-
LOVED.
and that's all he's ever wanted.
he wants them,
to love him.
and they do.
--
he is euphoric,
and a little wasted.
maybe a little high too.
(he can't remember)
he's living in the now-
and loving it.
--
he headbangs- shaggy hair
fly-fly-flying
e
    v
       e
           r
              y
where.
--
and soon he's kicking over amps.
and theyre cheer-
cheer-
CHEERING.
him on, because they love him.
--
they love him,
he's completely fucke
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Literature
...
dear you,
you have filthy ocean water green eyes- murky and sad. you think they are ugly and would prefer a plain color like brown or hazel. i however would trade these mud puddle eyes in exchange for yours.
p.s. (because theyre beautiful in an ugly and broken sort of way)
dear you,
darling you have whiskey  breath and cigarette smoke clings to not only your clothes but your skin. it makes me want to envelop myself in you and your scent. you smell like the ashtray my grandpa kept on the porch out front.
p.s. (you smell like the cancer that killed him but i love you none the less)
dear you,
you come home at late hours in the night. far past your bedtime. i lay and wait for you but sleep weighs down my eyes and my lips steal yawns. the way romeo and Juliet stole kisses. when i awake you are leaning against the doorway because youre far too hammered to stand by yourself.
p.s. (i can tell you've been with another girl but ill play dumb- just for you)
dear you,
"
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Literature
Tick Tock
she’s lightning and flamboyance,
          dancing pirouettes,
around a clock which ticks off,
           every guy she’s been with for that day,
and now she’s nearing the 6 o’clock mark.
she’s alcoholic drinks and speakeasy clubs,
          fabric stretched too tightly over skin,
exposed in places where her porcelain should not be seen,
           she winds herself around a pole,
around the final guy for that night.
she’s a whore,
          to put it simply,
making herself in likeness of softcore models,
          like jodie marsh.
she’s a little girl,
          caught up in all the wrong t
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Literature
Rib Keys
i.  he runs his fingers along my ribcage.  their dancing, and playing tag whilst he pretends my bones are piano keys.  i imagine that every time his finger tips tap the hollow bones rather than an echo it produces a twinkling sound.  a song of stars and the moon and the sky.  “the piano makes such a beautiful sound…” he murmers and i believe he’s talking to himself until he looks into my eyes and says “but you make a far lovelier sound, my dear.”  and we kiss.
(now im playing a song of colliding stars and exploding moons and everything’s gone supernova.)
ii.  his eyes are hungry and his hands search for me frantically.  “I love you.” he whispers again and again, his breathe hot again my skin.  and i believe him because this is what someone does when they love you.  at least that’s what they do in the romantic movies i watch.
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Literature
Hurricane, Katrina.
00a.     katrina.  is what they name her, it's a random selection, as it is with all the others of her kind.  going in alphabetical order, to keep track of them.  but sometimes people forget, that names have meanings.  and hers means pure.  oh that was a bad choice...
(a very bad choice.)
00b.      because she is far from pure.  she is hectic, chaotic, and destructive.  nothing of purity, by the standard definition.  but she is pure in her mother, Nature('s), eyes.  for she is her creation, made for a sole purpose: to show that her mother and it's child -earth- is hurting.
(we are the hurt, we are the cancer, we are the tumors, we are... hurt.)
00c.      but to us, she is the hurt, the "cancer" of nature that takes lives in which we hold dearly.  no one knew that she'd be wort
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Literature
Bananas and 'Cherries'
i knew from the moment my eyes locked with hers -cold, dull, lifeless brown- that she was trouble.  and everyone warned me, everyone told me to stay as far away as possible, but that wasn't very far.  because the piece of me that hides in the shadows behind my fragile heart was screaming we were meant to be.
(naive and innocence plus trouble and mayhem equals the perfect catastrophe.)
-------
"i thought you hated bananas?"
"i do." she replies shoving a spoonful of banana split into cherry red lips. i stare at her, puzzled, so she continues "but this is the way banana is supposed to taste..." she sounds so completely sure of herself "...but by itself it's simply disgusting and bland and just bleh!" she grins, shoving another a spoonful in.
(and at that moment i realize without her im a bland disgusting banana.)
-------
"it hurts!" she practically screams, and i whisper groan interrupted apologies into her ear.  
"don'tt say sor-r
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Literature
Breathing
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6... I wonder what he's doing right now, sleeping of course.  Everyone is.  Shit I lost count again.  I looked at the ceiling trying to count all of the tiny air bubbles trapped behind paint.  That poor air was being suffocated by blank constricting white.  They longed for freedom, whereas I, I longed for sleep.  I longed for something I knew wouldn't come in a long while, so I snuck downstairs to my usually spot.
Perched against the piano bench I looked around, staring into the dark.  Which now that I think about it, wasn't entirely dark, maybe it was from the millions of stars and the full moon occupying the night.  I stared at them while I sat and listened.  To nothing, to everything.  I sat and listened to the house breathe, and that, that is when sleep came.
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Literature
Happy Birthday Chelsea.
year one. 2/2/00
today she is one years old with his golden blonde locks.  his soft green eyes.  his cherry lips.  my nothing.  she is beautiful.  
year two. 2/2/01
she is quiet, ever watching.  thoughtfully, wide-eyed.  perfect in all ways with sunny disposition.  she is two years old today.
year three. 2/2/02
she is three years old, and ever rambling.  attempting to avoid being bored with all her might, she wanders.  
year four. 2/2/03
four years.  she is four years old today.  loud and flamboyant.  she is growing and becoming... chelsea.  lovely, curious, energetic, chelsea.
year five. 2/2/04
she ran across the street today and it's her birthday, it couldve been her last.  im overreacting though she says.  i am ruining chelsea's fun.  it's her birthday and i am ruining the fun.
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Literature
sticks and stones and spiders
ever since she was a little girl, she's known where it hurts the most.
on the playground she'd trip little boys with jumpropes.
(and as she got older its only worsened.)
--------------
her words, they bite like spiders,
and leave a sting like black widow venom.
she devours boys whole.
she's not a whore
(she's just a maneater.)
--------------
she reigned over the school yard,
come too close to her monkey bar throne,
she'll throw the sticks and stones.
but they're nothing compared to the names she throws.
(at least you can use band-aids on bruises)
--------------
she looks like a flower,
but she's a venus fly trap,
she draws the boys in,
and soon theyre trapped.
(you won't escape until she's through with you)
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Literature
tucked away in an old book...
-the rough drafts-
i. Dear him,
         
            I think I like you.
ii. Dear him,
         
             Actually I don't think...I know.
iii. Dear him,
          
             But I know you don't like me back.  You'll never like me back.  Because pretty boys don't fall in like with unpretty girls.
iv. Dear him,
           
             Whenever I think of your name.  Whenever I hear it.  Whenever I think of you.  Whenever I see you.  I.cant.stop.smiling.
v. Dear him,
 
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Literature
blue eyed boy.
his dilated pupils are like ships lost at sea.  frantically searching, in the midst of pale blue.  the ships owner forces a smile, the upturned corners of his pale bubblegum lips twitch in discomfort, as his irises flicker sending a wave of uneasiness through him.  but he keeps his perfectly composed façade in tact, the only thing giving it away is the horror that overcomes his black pupils.  
(but nobody will notice)
because in a second the sunlight will hit his oceanic eyes, and the pale blue will sparkle just like the sea does on a bright summer's day.  their rippling waves glinting devilishly, their putting on their own façade to disguise the fact those ships are trying to escape.  but nobody will notice.
(because nobody looks at his eyes like i do)
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Literature
Lovely Burns
orange tongues lick at the black sky.
while embers flicker like fireflies.
                                                   try to catch them all you want,
                                                   you'll only feel their burn.
                 
                   cause the prettiest things in life
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Literature
Human Flute.
she's all limbs -two arms, two legs attached to a not particularly pretty face.  a constant set line -one mouth, her mouth produces nothing worth listening to, except it's music.  they pucker, let out,  a whistle that only birds can acheive -so maybe she's bird, not a Robin, not a Hummingbird, but an Ugly Duckling.  with sparkling sapphires -two starry eyes, with a flicker of hope and sudden flashes of hidden masochistic joy.  thick long butterfly wings -lashes that flutter non-stop, like a baby Blue Jay preparing to set flight -and she, the ugly duckling is getting ready to fly away and sing her song.  she's elongated limbs, a less than average face, wide eyes, and puckered lips that produce a perfect.smooth.stream.of.unbroken.words.
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Literature
Daphne Loves Derby
and so seafoam and sand lick at her ankles, beckoning for her, the summer child with seaglass eyes and skin the color of milk and honey, to take a swim.  they whisper tales of mermaids and Atlantis promising to show her it all if she'd just let the waves carry her.  but she knows that they wouldn't carry her to the happily-ever-afters they promised, just to some place where no one could hear her scream while she surrended to the burn of the sea-salt in her lungs and the waves crushing her fragile bones.  
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Literature
Broken Bones
glass of green shattering beneath the weight of 150 pounds.  he stands atop the edge of a jagged cliff overlooking the bitter ocean waves.  they crash against the rocks below- irregular heartbeats- like the ones echoing in the boy's chest. he breaths in and out, in and out.  slowly.  he's in a fragile state, one wrong move and the damage is irreversible.  like a broken bone- he's trying to heal.  the breath escaping his lips curls upward with hands uplifted, outstretched.  the fingers of brisk air nip at his face staining his lips and cheeks a perfect cherry red.  gripping onto a golden locket are red palms like those of a child who finger-paints.  it's early morning six maybe 7 in the a.m. and the sky above him is a canvas covered in watercolor paint, the color of periwinkle.  although it's frigid his hands are sweating as he holds onto the only thing she left behind for him. 
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Literature
I hate you. I miss you.
i.
        whenever you smiled it was ugly. crooked. sinister.
      (but you were lovely when you cried.)
ii.
        you were frail. brittle. breakable. and your spine looked as though it were                                          
        ready to tear through that papery skin of yours.
      (but you were a lot stronger than you looked.)
iii.
        you kissed me like you had to. not like you wanted to.
      (and on the rare occasion there was emotion behind the kiss, it was always, only lust.)
iv.
  &
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Favourites

Literature
alive
i want to be buried in
a grave made of water
because i write poetry
but don't understand it
because i know how to feel
but not how to cope
or how to tell you what
it feels like to die
my mother will cry and
her garden will still grow
but she will not take down
photos on the windowsill
she will age dutifully and
retire, travel the world and
i will only regret not being
able to see her finally happy
my brother grow up without
knowing how much i cared
but he will still think
of me on his wedding day
his eyes will be a window
not to his soul, but a world
of pain and loss and he will
wish that i could say sorry
and the boy who knows that
he was the only one i loved;
he will lose himself in the
thought that he had the chance
to save a life, but didn't;
he will read my poetry and
not understand why but know
that i loved him more than life
i will fade to dirt, and from
me will grow a peach tree, with
the type of leaves that children
will make boats out of, sail
across their puddle oceans
and t
:iconrachel-rhapsody:rachel-rhapsody
:iconrachel-rhapsody:rachel-rhapsody 85 38
Literature
11 3
i've been sitting under
the same tree for days and now
the leaves are leaving and now
the bark is peeling and
is this what they talk about
when the sparks all flicker
out?
i've been stoned enough
times to be called a martyr and
my mind's been getting hazy
lately
how do they expect me to answer
all these prayers?
i'm not a saint, i've just got
no grasp on sin.
:iconbailey--elizabeth:bailey--elizabeth
:iconbailey--elizabeth:bailey--elizabeth 416 48
Sweater. The Evil Dork Rocker. by Stupidartpunk Sweater. The Evil Dork Rocker. :iconstupidartpunk:Stupidartpunk 81 21
Literature
in black-brick houses.
poor eddie, poor eddie,
and poor eddie pours another drink.
his skin has burst, and he’s spilled
his guts on your brand new shoes.
poor eddie, he swallowed everything,
like distance,
and the blue nights are fractured.
his sweater is rolled up like a hurt dog;
he is naked on the couch, weeping, and
wishing he were waterproof
because what is sadder than a train
sitting alone in the rain?
oh! it’s burning again, a coin that
has laid for too long in the sun,
branding his scalp, his shoulders,
his veins, his leather face--
gotta down another.
poor eddie, poor eddie,
and poor eddie pours another chlorine on the rocks.
:iconhellosaysme:hellosaysme
:iconhellosaysme:hellosaysme 6 8
Identity Crisis by little-pretty Identity Crisis :iconlittle-pretty:little-pretty 11 0 Lomography: 5th by an-urb Lomography: 5th :iconan-urb:an-urb 63 87 hearing damage, mind restless by saturdayx hearing damage, mind restless :iconsaturdayx:saturdayx 4,706 385 innocence by Pretty-As-A-Picture innocence :iconpretty-as-a-picture:Pretty-As-A-Picture 1,266 84 hush now by bailey--elizabeth hush now :iconbailey--elizabeth:bailey--elizabeth 752 0 Mamiya RB67 by little-pretty Mamiya RB67 :iconlittle-pretty:little-pretty 85 13 speckles by bailey--elizabeth speckles :iconbailey--elizabeth:bailey--elizabeth 1,813 140 heartbeat, beat, beat by bigcitydreams heartbeat, beat, beat :iconbigcitydreams:bigcitydreams 275 11 quintessence by bigcitydreams quintessence :iconbigcitydreams:bigcitydreams 422 17

Activity


deviantID

PRETTiieMUSIC
Amanda
United States
Current Residence: east coastt
MP3 player of choice: My nano chromatic.
Personal Quote: 'Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity.' -Holly Kennedy. PS I Love You (book).
Interests
just wanted to get that old journal entry off my pageee.

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:iconmode-de-vie:
mode-de-vie Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2009  Student Writer
Thank you for the recent favorite! :)
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:iconprettiiemusic:
PRETTiieMUSIC Featured By Owner Dec 18, 2009
anytime(:
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:icontreble--clef:
Treble--Clef Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2009
Thank you for the favourite :D
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7Roses1BrokenHeart Featured By Owner Nov 18, 2009
:iconwelcomizer:thanks for the fav!
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:icondonvito62:
donvito62 Featured By Owner Nov 18, 2009
Thank You PRETTiieMUSIC For The Fav Of Miss Deathwish :)
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:icondorugatomon-luver:
dorugatomon-luver Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2009
Thanks for the fav. <3 Very much appreciated.
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:iconrachel-rhapsody:
rachel-rhapsody Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2009
thank you so much for the have
:heart:
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:iconfeiyll:
Feiyll Featured By Owner Aug 23, 2009
Thank you for the favs on my poems. :3
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:iconrachel-rhapsody:
rachel-rhapsody Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2009
thank you for the faves & the watch,
i'll definitely check out your gallery
:heart:
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:iconhouse-of-riots:
House-Of-Riots Featured By Owner Aug 18, 2009
Thank you for the fav :D
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