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About Literature / Hobbyist BreeFemale/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
If I could be anything
If I could be anything, I’d be
A bitter old woman
Who has known true pain
And lets the wisdom of hurt
Pour out her old, bony fingers
 
And bitter old me would be
Hurt deeply by the
Shadows of old lingering things
Like stains on faded curtains
That’d rise up around me
 
Cynical, lonely elderly me will have
Passed the milestones
That one meets every 10 years or so
She’ll be stagnant, but she’ll have them
Under the belt, out of the way
 
And lonely, bitter old me
Will sit in her chair in the evenings
Thinking in the fading light:
If I could be anything, I’d be
 
A naïve young girl
Who has known only joy
And lets the purity of youth
Flow out through new, delicate fingers
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Literature
Freefall
 The parachute fails
Something whistles
And there is a feeling now of
The stomach fluttering hollowly
 
Rushing
Somewhere
The sun on the water
Not directly below
 
Detail and
Leaves in wind
Or is that the canvas
Flapping 
Effortlessly
Gravity's bullet
Careens into the
Treeline
Somewhere
The trees bloom
With twisted cables
Of a strange fruit
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Literature
Late
A train howls where we used to lay our heads
And rattle us from warm sleep
Miles away I'm still rattled;
Years after, still warm.
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Literature
Crap
Most times,
I can't tell a howl
From a gale,
Or a hum
From a purr.
I can tell,
However,
That some are outside
And others
In.
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Literature
Shadows
There is a noise through the static, definite.
Pillow agrees, shoves me up to look.
I tippytoe to the sill
Peer.
There are shadows, definite.
"I thought of you today," I whisper.
I know he will not.
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Mature content
Part 1 :iconbitybaby45:bitybaby45 1 0
Literature
Hide and Seek
It's all gone t'hell, hasn't it? There ain't nobody, not a soul, out there who's ever gonna find us.
No no no, don't cry. Ah'course they'll find us. It's their goddamned JOB to find us, ain't it? 'Sides, how they gonna miss us, huh? We're the only living souls 'round for miles.


Hush now. I didn't mean that, neither. Ah'course there's somebody out there. It ain't natural, a whole city of people just up'n leaving. There's someone out there, lookin' fer us. The government'll find us. Don't you worry.
Wassat, now? Where? What'cha hear?
Oh, hush now. I can't hear nothin' o'er them sniffles. Hush up. No, no, I hear 'em too. Somebody's movin' 'round out there. Sit tight. Wait for 'em to say somethin', or wait for 'em to pass. C'mere. I won't let nothin' git you. I got my gun, an' you got me. We'll be just fine, just you wait 'n see.
See now? Whoever it was, he's gone. You're doin' just fine. Stay quiet, 'n stay right here with me. 
Aw, kid. You're tired 's a
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Literature
crooked
It seems that I can draw anything
Man,
       Beast,
               Scene,
                        Dream;
Yet the smile
Will always be that half-turned grin
And the height will always be
Perfect
Head-to-shoulder height
Though I'll never rest there again.
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Literature
Messages
Orchestrated silhouettes linger delicately in the breeze
Dance along eyelids, across lips
Over toes
Never to ears.
Fiery, jagged fringes caught in whirlwind passionate
Stutter violently in hands, between eyes
Behind tongues,
Never over lips.
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Literature
Expenses
Silk, and furnaces
Are expensive gifts
Valued higher
Than the broken television
Who watches us move this way
Fur. And air
Are in short supply
Grasping, gasping
More
Alive than dead
For tonight, your name
On the tip of
My tongue
Scents can be bottled
Pickled away
Air
Between minds
In blood
Over tongues
Cannot.
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Literature
Anxiety at it's finest
I.


These things are funny.
Small things.
Humming in the rafters,
Darts between the eyes.
The occasional grunt and sniffle
of the living beings
all around...
I never allow the world to be
SILENT.
Then again, no one does.
In silence, you will hear
RACING THOUGHTS
FOOTSTEPS
HEARTBEATS.
Never silence.
Silence is not heard.
Nor is it sensed, or felt.
One day, silence will speak.
II.


There was a day
and in that day was a rooster
and that rooster ate a worm
who had eaten
dirt
Eaten the dirt
of a kind man;
Kind, sweet, soft, decayed
placed delicately into the earth
on a bright summer day
or a cool winter's morning
or a blustery spring afternoon,
or a foggy autumn evening.
I'm not sure.
But the worm ate him this morning,
and the rooster ate him
and I ate him
with my mid-day lunch.
There was a day
much like today
yesterday
III.


MUCH LIKE


too much like
almost enough like to kill a
man who feels very LIKE.
It's ne
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Literature
Fish
They dart swiftly, flashing, silvery like a coin mid-flip, gone before you can even
Minnows, I believe. Small, and quick, like minnows. They must be.
Too quick to be speared, too fickle to be caught. I want one.
I cast a line, it flies like spider's silk
It bobs fruitlessly on the horizon.
Shadows there, underneath.
Too shy to take the bait.
My line lies limp and unused
And yet
There is a bite
Great turbulence in the water
A shark, some kind of shark
Not the little minnow that I like
There is the line in my hands, 
And the scissors in the other.
To cut the line and lose it,
Or to be pulled in with the shark?
I only wanted a minnow,
If only you had been a minnow...
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Literature
Climb
High. Proud. Strong. He will not move. There is no negotiation, or surrender. Incredible triumph, or utter defeat? He waits patiently.
Hawks glide overhead, unphased. Lizards skirmish their way up, if they are brave.
I will climb.
The sun challenges me to attain its height, touch it. The birds laugh jovially, and I laugh back.
I find myself at the top of the world. High, proud, strong. He nods his head at me, for I have triumphed.
Yet the descent is much quicker than I would expect.
The space between the ground and the sun isn't so far, from a distance. Measured in millimeters on the horizon.
I can't scale social awkwardness like a narrow crag.
I can't shirk responsibilities or dodge assignments like loose footholds or cacti.
I can't pause to admire the view from a real-life triumph, because the mountain is infinite. Catch your breath, take a look around, press onward.
The mountain apologizes a million times over. "I didn't teach you enough," he sighs, "to scale even the smallest of ob
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Mature content
Antipodes :iconbitybaby45:bitybaby45 1 8
Literature
Vermillion
There is color in this blood, drowned out by the murky vermillion waves
I used to watch it run, a masterpiece melting, dripping into small
Pools of everycolor on the floor.
I could pour my color into paper, then. Into music, too-
Euphonic symphonies cascading down, fueling my
Color blood, giving me the strength to continue.
Now my paints have run dry, and my ship has run aground.
There is no color left in these veins, only the sorrowed
Hue of a murky vermillion. There is no life to be found in the waves.
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Literature
Pish-posh, boy, cheer up!
Oh, no. I'm supposed to be the one losing it. Not you.
I remember doing that, though. I remember the conversations I'd have with myself in the eighth grade, tearing myself to bits; do it already and all of that. I remember it so well. It gets you out of a tight spot, as a quick fix, but in the long run you'll feel it (as though you don't already).
It's for the attention, though. I hid the journal, because I was going crazy; you publish it for all to see, for someone to care, even just the one. It's the attention you so desperately crave.
I'd fix you if you only asked, you know. I'd keep you off me this time, but I'd fix you right up.
I'd say I feel better now, and give you tips on how--but my road is an unhealthy and distressing one. Two antipodes, one threatening to overthrow the other; there's the Virgo/Leo I told you about. My cusp. Naturally bipolar since birth, and not a thing I can do about it.
Push them away, all of them!
Get them away, they're too c
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bitybaby45
Bree
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I'm mostly a poet, or a writer. I love giving criticism, but usually I love everything I read on this site. I tend to have a good eye for pictures, too. Private Message me, comment, have a look around. I promise, I don't bite! :dummy:
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:iconbark:
Bark Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2015  Professional Writer
Thank you! :)
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:iconrandomphilosopher:
randomphilosopher Featured By Owner Jan 7, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
I miss you. :(
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:iconbitybaby45:
bitybaby45 Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
I'm still around sometimes. :) Miss you, too.
Reply
:iconrandomphilosopher:
randomphilosopher Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
I'm glad to hear it. ^-^ Thanks for taking some time to read my work. :)
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:iconpwilliamstein:
pwilliamstein Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2013
Thanks again for the favorite.
:D :beer:
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