Daily Literature Deviations for January 24, 2014

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Daily Lit Deviations for January 24th, 2014


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Poetry


Featured by: Nichrysalis
Dream CartographyWe didn’t need any soap after
the Sun took its gold knife to our skeleton,
discarding the flesh with the ichor and taking no regards
for the emotions  still clenched tight in our jaw.
Regardless,
I’ve found an atlas under the question, coffee-stained
and tired but with directions to a place
where words have no shadow.
The street signs slander almost faster than the
roads can contort and mutiny, patronized by human trust in sight.
It was there, under the warping shade of the streetlamps,
that I found Love chained to a giant clock.
Struggling to breathe, it was the last inhabitant of the flickering city
and I didn’t know any language with which to comfort it.  
We’ve become fruit flies, a swarm in the half-light
buzzing the discarded rind of
the last forbidden apple.
Peace.
In the ruins of the garden,
the wind strangles leaves with the voice of a serpent.
***

Dream Cartography by OliverKloezoff

With parting lines that taste of bitterness, Dream Cartography
takes you to a place where poetry is abstractly bittersweet.


Suggested by: imaginative-lioness
Featured by: betwixtthepages

i vanish.a few excessive kilograms
adorn my body,
stubborn in their departure:
like an uninvited guest
too dense to perceive
the subtle hints i leave
on my skin;
not feeling as blessed as i
could have been
if i were
thin.
if i am too much
then why do i feel like
i am not enough
for the starved society
that eats away at my insides
& feeds me
empty, palatable lies,
(a fabricated portrayal of reality's demise)
leaving me wishing
that each bittersweet tear i cry
is enough to rid my body,
my healthy home,
of excess salt
all through my eyes;
not realising that the number
beneath my feet
does little to measure
each person who feeds
off of my kindness, my sincerity,
that each time i bleed
myself away
in a well fed wish
to vanish,
i'm just another one of society's prey
losing themselves
to what they weigh.

i vanish. by setmyworldintomotion

From the suggester: One of the best poems I have ever read on
deviantART - well-written and relatable, a must read for everyone.


Suggested by: everchangingstories
Featured by: LionesseRampant

Bridge of OblivionThe shallow place,
I'd seen before,
still turns beneath my feet.
The drudgery,
of people in,
drive along their streets.
Confusion gone from my head,
I know not to where it's gone.
This place I'm in,
I didn't belong,
but still I am within.
But not here on this path,
high up in the clouds.
I've gone beyond Oblivion,
I've found the way ahead.
That edge I stood,
was not the end,
but a beginning into time.
I've struggled on,
out from the ledge,
and into the starry sky.
It's a narrow path.
No room for error.
No room to miss a step.
It's subtle way,
a forgotten way,
a way of righting I.
Oblivion does still lay a head,
off to either side.
Another blade, another knife,
a path, a piercing line.
To my back I hear the calls,
echoing, haunting words.
They matter not,
They're lost to me,
mere shadows nothing more.
The turning world,
beneath my feet.
Slowly begins to shine.
The light is growing as I walk,
easing up my fight.
The more I move,
the more I walk,
further on the line.
The more distinct,
an

Bridge of Oblivion by Suphyx

A piece that is both dark and uplifting at the same time.


Prose


Suggested by: DailyBreadCafe
Featured by: SilverInkblot

The Price of Opting OutShe woke up not in a pool of her own blood, but in the alley behind her house with one wrist healed new and pink. As light filtered down through the trees, she slapped her hand across her eyes and bolted the last few meters into her suite. Diane woke up with the sun. Slamming the door, she closed the blinds in the living room and blinked in the darkness. Making a small sound, she examined the scar on her wrist. Only the smallest traces of blood remained over what had obviously been a twisted wound. It tapered off in the impression of teeth, and she walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
The phone she had left on the sink sat dead, and she checked for her pulse.
“One, two, three...” she muttered numbers and patted her still sore wrist for a pulse. Her neck was next. Prodding, she found nothing. She tried with her other hand, and still found nothing. Looking up, she saw her reflection hover like a ghost in the mirror. Her eyes were a wide, milky white that turned sharp

The Price of Opting Out by Goldfish-In-Space

Suggester: "A well written story about a vampire that
appears a little disenchanted with the world."


Suggested by DailyBreadCafe
Featured by doodlerTM

Mature Content


Ain't No Redemption - Snippet One by mnmccarthy

A promising beginning to a thrilling longer piece.


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Prepared by: LionesseRampant
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Comments2
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mnmccarthy's avatar
A little late, but thank you so much!!!