ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Like cannon fodder
I am flung back to my enemy
Who lingers around reflective surfaces
complacent and contrary.
I am the one who soars
like a pig raised for slaughter
fuelled by ebony explosives
towards your black dahlia garden
colourful and conniving.
I'm strung out and wrung
until I'm dry
And we cannot meet our eyes
Because I'm ever burnt out
and you're too full
effervescent
to comprehend.
And like cannnon fodder
I'm similarly tossed aside
until I reabsorb all the energy you need
agonisingly
to fire into the enlightened gardens
Until the flowers smile again.
I am flung back to my enemy
Who lingers around reflective surfaces
complacent and contrary.
I am the one who soars
like a pig raised for slaughter
fuelled by ebony explosives
towards your black dahlia garden
colourful and conniving.
I'm strung out and wrung
until I'm dry
And we cannot meet our eyes
Because I'm ever burnt out
and you're too full
effervescent
to comprehend.
And like cannnon fodder
I'm similarly tossed aside
until I reabsorb all the energy you need
agonisingly
to fire into the enlightened gardens
Until the flowers smile again.
Literature
Blackout poetry
The strange and extreme things
that we do
for love
teach you how to
fit into the spaces
between my ribs.
Literature
apocryphal
so cunning and seemingly honest
at times there is nothing but wit
yet not quite real on the inside
but nothing we care to admit
Literature
homecoming
nearly home. nearly home. a space and time away from where you want to be: belonging to yourself. there is a midnight garden somewhere inside my lungs, black and tarry from the darkness i am siphoning from your lips to mine, trying to let the light in, trying to stop the hurt becoming a euphemism for two vertical red lines drawn in a bathtub. you have turned me inside out. raw, vulnerable; the silence is an agony.
you have wormed your way inside and I have agreed to be your golem, a clay replacement for the affections of the woman who bedded herself beneath your skin and rearranged your spine. even so, let me give til i am a dry husk, let me
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
For when you are feeling indispensable, dear deviants.
I would love to hear your thoughts and feedback! Take care of yourselves everyone.
This is my work, not yours, so you cannot reproduce, copy or edit this work without my permission. Each artist is protected by copyright.
I would love to hear your thoughts and feedback! Take care of yourselves everyone.
This is my work, not yours, so you cannot reproduce, copy or edit this work without my permission. Each artist is protected by copyright.
© 2017 - 2024 PeriodicFable
Comments18
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
There's a lot of energy to this piece, something I think lends itself well to the imagery of cannons and such. That said, I think the second stanza has a little too much imagery fit into it. It goes from pigs to explosives to black dahlias, each of which has its own suite of images built in already. I think you might find things flow better if you space those images out a little more, or even remove one or two entirely and focus more narrowly on the theme of cannons and explosives. That's just my opinion, though, and the poem's quite good nonetheless. I wish you the best of luck in your future writing 