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About Literature / Artist JuliaFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 9 Years
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Literature
052211
a few days ago the whole world smelled like cigarettes and the backseat of somebody's car, laughing when they turned up the music so our hair blew around our faces. I have been that girl waiting for her life to start
i am that girl, teaching herself how to smoke
behind a building that used to be a church,
now hosts art classes and movie screenings where the cheese is cut as small as the conversation and everybody likes black skirts and big silver jewelry.
this week i smoked two slim unfiltered cigarettes and was still hungry for dinner.
in november i learned how to make a lighter leap to life under my thumbpad and we burned paper in the forest while i sang a song
and you had just dyed your hair, it looked pretty and startling against the shrunken new england forest tucking itself into winter, into snow white and perfect against each elbow-crooked branch.
may now, and i am measuring myself in things other people tell me are bad for me,
for the first time at sixteen understanding why the
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Literature
051811
personal facts:
1. 41 poems are saved on my computer, shot livewire from brain to fingertip.
2. barefoot on the porch, touched my hair while the month drew to a close in a dark press of damp april clouds and fit a few words in.
3. write a poem with your feet, write a poem about your feelings, shift and compress the electricity that runs through the pictures in your brain, soften the liquid burn of sensation with the cadences of tongue and letter, compress your lips and start with an m.
4. write a poem about writing a poem and don't forget the rhyme scheme, drop something small and hot and dense into the world and hope it will expand stiff and new as a crocus unfurling itself into the newborn air groaning through the porch floorboards, hope that it will make somebody feel something nobody has ever felt before in the history of the universe, hope that it will give birth in the summer with its feet tucked into an armchair and knees pressed together like hands in prayer.
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Literature
041811
there've been a lot of afternoons wasted writing poems about you,
curved over keyboards with my spine about to burst forth from my skin because that's what you're like
a slow ripping explosion
it takes big things to knock the wind out of me;
tree branches toppling
the feeling of my own mortality wet under my fingers
last summer, you stole into my sails and made a home for yourself beneath my breastbone where it is small and warm and empty,
and okay, maybe i cared a little too much. but can you blame me? it's neither of our fault she was there first with tighter lines than i have, neither of our fault that i feel too hard, too deep, too vivid.
more than anything in the world, i would love to see you bloom under my fingers, soft and wet. i have unfeminine nigglings, but it's okay because the revolution is done
sex happens
only in movies, though. everyone in the public high school hallways seemed sterilized to my young flickering eyes, too caked in test prep to shed their skins and burrow
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Literature
040411
i am in love with you the way that a robin loves its sweet red breast flashing against the sky, startling and new even after all of it.
i will remember the way your fingers had folded into themselves like crocuses in reverse
tilting your head back against the bus seat to talk to me, smiling with your lashes playing a fluttering heartbeat against your cheeks.
there is real poetry in your bones and i think we are the same and different in a lot of ways that count, because neither of us have too many words except for colors, pictures- rooted deep blue or a rock that I scrabbled at with my fingertips that turned the skin of my thighs folded and red.
you have pebbled my skin with old touches, you have a beautiful smile, i promise it. when i go to a new place i imagine the footprints we would leave in it and how the colors our skin absorbs like paint-smudged sponges would spread out along the line of my jaw when you touched me there then on my neck with your little fingers.
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Literature
021711
lover boy, don't even try to tell me there's anything in the world burning brighter than us tonight,
with your knee bent halfway over that fence and my smile entwined in your collarbones.
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Literature
020611
sunday morning in february, and someone should tell me how to explain how i feel about you.
ice closed round all the branches of the trees, it rained last night in new england
and everyone in cambridge dropped streetlight eyes to the quad
to somebody more alive than they were running their fingers through the gaps in bricks.
i was still awake when the morning bloomed, and the tears came close again last night, my shoulders shook and the feeling was thicker than paint, wider than the charles.
how to explain
i remember you in the morning, bleary-eyed and beautiful
fingers venturing over the spine of a book. all times of day you were angles
and everything is stranger after you, colors are different.
i eat too much and know you wouldn't mind, smoke my first cigarette and know you would, and sometimes i am just caught up in the idea of us
it's okay, you know, you don't need to apologize, because i'm doing this to myself, but above all i am a sensible girl with sensible thoughts about how we
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Literature
012511
sweet, darling sara, standing on the landing with hair laced into her fingers,
the war drawn into all the creases in her skin.              she says of course we are not our soft earthly vessels, we are smaller, firmer, wetter
i ate a peach, she dared, we disturbed the universe together oh god the universe was in her motions if i could draw lines to capture her big blue hips i would.                                                  do i dare disturb again
                 sara in a dress, my own branch-tipped apparition, what a doll, what a doll.
       
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Literature
012411
i thought maybe you would kiss me today, and i
don't know if i would've minded, honestly
you're beautiful, from your mindside out
you are soft around the sides like i am and i
would like to touch your hair? i don't know
because i think it's beautiful, i do
but there's someone else?
but you have someone else?
and my friends say you want me
and maybe i want you, i feel so funny when you
i think maybe i want to kiss you
even though i'm not going to
you're so beautiful, you have cotton candy hair
and a big round moon-face
but maybe i'm just lonely, there's this boy and he's so wonderful
three states away wonderful
and the highway hasn't got hands to hold me
and it's so perfect and awful because we're meant for it,
we know it,
but we can't and it won't.
is this healthy? says sara to me, and i don't answer because
my life is not made up of carbohydrates and proteins
just skin
(but god, you're beautiful.)
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Literature
121510
There is just this: a streetlamp nimbus catching raindrops as they plummet to earth, your fingers on the steering wheel, some church steeple tapering its gentle way into the sky like it belongs there. God, it's pouring, I should take you home and the warm cadence of your breaths around the yellow tip of a cigarette. I was born on a tuesday, will die on a tuesday, and my funeral will be the waves beating upon the shoreline, a sailor's dirge that overshadows the moonlight. You spread your arms and wish for something expansive, fabulous, and I keep chewing on the little porcelain koala figurine I keep in my pocket until you pull over and kiss me, and I pull the cigarette from between your fingers and sigh into the gearshift.
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Literature
120310
how strange to learn the language of another human being- the curling and unwinding of a set of hipbones not my own and how your tongue navigates the back of your teeth as you speak.
            o, to wrap myself in the whole paragraphs that make up your clavicle as it rasps
against the inside of your skin, the softness inside your elbows
i am terribly tired, often bored.the stars will cradle my head soon, stomach weighing me down into sheet cocoons. i think i will dream of decoding you, unraveling the threads that bind your skin together and following the lines of your ivory bones.
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Literature
102610
sunday i collect dust and drop it into the hollows where your arm and shoulder meet, and you are smiling like some beautiful, violent word. snapping my vertebrae into place and letting your soft indian skin fall away from your collarbones and breasts.
your elbows bend at impossible angles, your fingers make looms and your neck is a treetrunk spindling towards the sky at impossible speeds, inconceivable girl with ankles that twitch and roll under me like- as your perfect chinese fingers trace my nervous system in strange rolling pathways
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Literature
101310
we got high and thought beautiful thoughts, and the inside of your elbow was all i needed- just to rub my fingers over gently again and again, and then there were veins running through the sky and nature hummed under our incandescent feet
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Literature
but lord
my brain is just a million tangled dancing universes and howling at the stars is like speaking into a soapdish and when your toes touch the dirt that is when you know everything is air is air
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Literature
092810
o, struck down by a lightning bolt-sara in glory, tinged pink spread like butter over the bedsheets/falling moon of a girl, loose-limbed, phosphorescent, with oceanographer's knees/said o lordly father and shattered like a swirling wineglass
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Literature
awoh
sweet thing, i do not know if i can wait for you-wait for us to dropcollide,
i am the impatient one, the one with verses of 'howl' tucked into the lining of her shoes
(i have not even met the best minds of my generation yet or i am hoping not)but i want to wander the negro streets at dawn, oh lord, want to watch brooklyn bruise open and dumbo near swallow itself in paroxysms
lord- you sound so young o'er the phone and i feel one thousand, walk fifteen
tuck my shirts in in the morning and let the sweet victorian plantation wood color me
umber as leaves tumbling
loose-limbed and sweet and we held hands
god we held hands
did you see?
lord i feel old, back pain creeps over me
my shoulderblades ache like trying to tell me something. god loose long limbs and it will be soon before you tumble into me once again
and boy, we collide like comets, celestial beings but i want to bare the soft arches of my feet to you and see what you say
hope to be beautiful, translucent and smooth-eyelided
placid
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Literature
and i
god i- overflow with this sweet spilling knowledge
just picture your fingers on my face and
tip my head like some smiling dandelion
god i am walking on air you sweetfingers. stick jam from between cookies onto my lips
grin redder
and we talk on the phone and i
grin redder you in my ear
crouched in the broad, stiff wrinkles there
eyes closing, lips unfurling
my dreaming tom thumb
make me
grin redder
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deviantID

orange-sheep
Julia
Artist | Literature
United States
fuck yeah lady gaga

Favourite genre of music: everything but metal and arena rock.
Operating System: Mac
MP3 player of choice: my beautiful ipod pazu :]
Interests
THANKS FOR THE WILD TURKEY AND
THE PASSENGER PIGEONS, DESTINED
TO BE SHIT OUT THROUGH WHOLESOME
AMERICAN GUTS.

THANKS FOR A CONTINENT TO DESPOIL
AND POISON.

THANKS FOR INDIANS TO PROVIDE A
MODICUM OF CHALLENGE AND
DANGER.

THANKS FOR VAST HERDS OF BISON TO
KILL AND SKIN LEAVING THE
CARCASSES TO ROT.

THANKS FOR BOUNTIES ON WOLVES
AND COYOTES.

THANKS FOR THE AMERICAN DREAM,
TO VULGARIZE AND TO FALSIFY UNTIL
THE BARE LIES SHINE THROUGH.

THANKS FOR THE KKK.

FOR ******-KILLIN' LAWMEN,
FEELIN' THEIR NOTCHES.

FOR DECENT CHURCH-GOIN' WOMEN,
WITH THEIR MEAN, PINCHED, BITTER,
EVIL FACES.

THANKS FOR "KILL A QUEER FOR
CHRIST" STICKERS.

THANKS FOR LABORATORY AIDS.

THANKS FOR PROHIBITION AND THE
WAR AGAINST DRUGS.

THANKS FOR A COUNTRY WHERE
NOBODY'S ALLOWED TO MIND THE
OWN BUSINESS.

THANKS FOR A NATION OF FINKS.

YES, THANKS FOR ALL THE
MEMORIES— ALL RIGHT LET'S SEE
YOUR ARMS!

YOU ALWAYS WERE A HEADACHE AND
YOU ALWAYS WERE A BORE.

THANKS FOR THE LAST AND GREATEST
BETRAYAL OF THE LAST AND GREATEST
OF HUMAN DREAMS.

Comments


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:iconhushed-lullabies:
hushed-lullabies Featured By Owner May 6, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! <3
Reply
:iconparadoxicalwhimsy:
ParadoxicalWhimsy Featured By Owner May 6, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
HAPPY BIRTHDAY^^
Reply
:iconearlinde-enelya:
Earlinde-Enelya Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2011
Thank you for the watch!
Reply
:icongenkaku-kun:
genkaku-kun Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2010  Student Traditional Artist
Thank you.
Reply
:iconyouinventedme:
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2010   Writer
thank you for the :+fav: on understandably less than Zero!
Reply
:iconwho-is-du:
who-is-du Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2010
:aww:
Reply
:iconyouinventedme:
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Sep 10, 2010   Writer
thanks for the :+fav: on atrophy of the mind!
Reply
:iconreverberations:
Reverberations Featured By Owner Jun 15, 2010
i accidentally deleted your last comment D:
Reply
:iconorange-sheep:
orange-sheep Featured By Owner Jun 16, 2010   Writer
oh i hate it when that happens oh boy.
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