ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
I can’t forget
the scent you left in
my bed –coital sweat
and cigarettes–
and how your eyes
never looked quite
the same after
those nights.
I remember you best
when the city burns
my eyes with smoke,
and the smell comes to
me, like it did
when I’d breathe you
in, deep under covers.
But the city stench
of a hundred car-
cinogens is no memento
worth leaving behind;
so come and find me
beneath the tracks again–
let us lose the need
for faulty memory.
Let us rediscover
permanence in each
other’s arms, and breathe in
unison.
the scent you left in
my bed –coital sweat
and cigarettes–
and how your eyes
never looked quite
the same after
those nights.
I remember you best
when the city burns
my eyes with smoke,
and the smell comes to
me, like it did
when I’d breathe you
in, deep under covers.
But the city stench
of a hundred car-
cinogens is no memento
worth leaving behind;
so come and find me
beneath the tracks again–
let us lose the need
for faulty memory.
Let us rediscover
permanence in each
other’s arms, and breathe in
unison.
Literature
Hometown
I dream of you, love of my life, most in the fall
When rain falls soft on red brick
And a crisp breeze flirts with the nape of my neck.
You have seen me leave far too soon
For far too long,
But you are still the breath that soothes
The months-long cramp in my lungs,
And my smile finds you.
In spite of that old grief in the harsh lights,
You still hold me safe and sure and real.
So I ride six hours north,
Back to you, back home
To find you once more.
Literature
History Burning
the trick is
to make all believe they inheret a
world all their own
remember to erase the words of the
deceased until
death never existed
and put corpses unburied
into neat containers
under every floor
to lock them up tight is
critical;
panic is the plague in this age
and is it any wonder they forget
with puppet parents
who burn books at christmas?
Literature
forever and ever and ever
as in love with love and
life as i am,
i am struggling to accept that
good things can't last forever
and a touch
is simply
a touch, fleeting yet
so very beautiful & i'm so stuck
in my own (not so beautiful) brain
dreaming up things that i know
i don't even believe in,
but i want them
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
This kind of went from real to mushy as it progressed and I don't know if that's good or not. But this idea's been with me for while, thanks to a conversation I had with a good friend.
Comments are welcome and appreciated.
Comments are welcome and appreciated.
Comments8
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
I dont think this is mushy at all, so much as reflective and observant, wistful with reminiscence and the desire to reconnect for something better.