Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Literature / Student Jay22/Female/United Kingdom Recent Activity
Deviant for 8 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 121 Deviations 10,905 Comments 27,388 Pageviews
×

Newest Deviations

Literature
194
you wanted a poem
written
about you.
but no words
come close
to describing what
you did to me.
you are
one thousand unfinished
verses and
one hundred
unfinished poems
and a jumble of letters
in my head
that i cannot organise.
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 1 0
Literature
173
Aside
Posted on
October 13, 2013
Comments
No Comments
Edit
I’m sad.
Too sad to put into words
or turn into
elaborate metaphors
to catch your attention.
You see I can’t
make this black
hole into anything
beautiful. There is nothing
tragic inside my skull.
No verse in my head.
Just a jumble of letters
that choke me,
and lodge in my
mouth.
Too afraid to speak.
Scars that line
my arms speak
volumes more
than I could.
And bruises that
burst across my
hands and
my lips
and my legs.
I ran out of
plasters days ago
   and
i couldn’t be
beautiful if i
tried.
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
192
Lovely
you whisper in my ear
and
smell like
cigarette smoke
and when
you kiss me
I can taste
the wine on
your breath.
I am
intoxicated
by the way you
taste and
feel against my fingers-
rough and calloused
right over your
heart.
And the way
you
sound,
the dull thud
of a heart
in your chest.
I rest and
listen
to your breathing;
so clear in
comparison to my
own.
You are
secondhand smoke
in my lungs.
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
191
I am very good at
writing poems
of metaphors
about how he
broke my heart
and birthed
new scars on my hips.
They litter the floor
on old
newspaper and
blotted ink and
blood.
Sometimes I rip
them up and scatter them
in the wind.
They dance in the air
and the wind reads
out my words.
I am not
good at poems about
nice stuff or
feeling good or
encapsulating
a single
happy moment.
And I wish
I could say
these things to
your face but
I am too shy and
nervous.
But I like
your smile
and your laugh
and I like it
when you tell
me to shut
the fuck
up.
Which is what
I am going to
do.
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Mature content
190 :iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
Blood
I,
like everyone
was born in blood.
and my first memory
is of
clutching a sponge
to my head after
cracking my head.
and blood
coated my fingers.
and
over the years I have
encountered blood in
many forms.
it covers my
stainless
steel
scissors like
rust and
pinks the water of
my bath and
grows in
the crevices of
my lips.
sometimes
you can
taste it when
you kiss me.
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
Stargazing
It is dark outside
and light
pollution bleeds
into the sky.
I can barely
see the stars
and I feel like
some part of my
childhood has
been robbed from me.
I used
to
stargaze
with my Dad
and wish
upon comets
and
peek at
the planets through
his telescope and
revel in the moon.
Now I have grown up
and I am
terrified of the
dark and
there are not
enough stars
to light my way.
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
186
I don’t know
if I will
ever be
able to say
“I love you” without crying
because in my head love is
associated with
a cigarette-burn scar
on my right
forearm and watching the
Torquay train station
curve around
the corner
without saying goodbye
and
a
whisper;
“I love you anyway”
when I
broke down
infront of him.
and kissing
my crying
girlfriend when
she
got pregnant
by someone
who wasn’t me.
and
never receiving that
one letter and
never sending
that one letter and
fucking someone
to feel something
other than hate.
But you make
me want to write
which is good
enough for now.
The page
is one thing
I can love
unconditionally.
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
185
I was accustomed
to being sad and
spending my nights
in the dark
dark with only
glow-in-the-dark
stars on my ceiling,
a makeshift galaxy
overhead.
After a while they would
tire and fall,
but I could not wish
upon sticky-back plastic.
Eventually I stopped
sticking them up and took to
melting them against my radiator.
And whenever someone told
me they loved me,
in the same breath
they could etch words into my
hips with their teeth,
penetrating deep into
bone
that stuck with me and
mined away till
I was a hollow
cavity.
One wore my heart on his
sleeve and stuck it
with pins. Made me dance and
burned me with cigarettes.
And now I realise
where those stars fell to.
Whenever I look out
to the night sky and
watch the moon between
silver-grey cloud.
There is a supernova in
my chest that
glows bright when you
laugh and say my name.
I am worried
you will burn me out faster
than before-
I have never fallen
so fast or so hard and I
worry more for the falling
stars I see now than ever before.
you h
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
180
I’m terrible with words-
but we’ve been through
that and you know it.
But I think that when I
kiss you
everything I wanted
to say doesn’t matter
anymore.
All of the words that
were on the
tip of my tongue
get swallowed up and
you steal the breath
right from my lungs as
i press my mouth to yours.
and then everything
i wanted to say
bleeds through me
like ink.
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
179
I broke down on your
kitchen floor once.
I’m sure you remember
walking in on me at 2 AM.
Things were hard but
you didn’t know that and
I ended up on the floor
curled up tight and tiny
because I burned some toast.
And you stood there
and looked at me for
a while and I ignored
your hand on my shoulder,
and the burns from your
cigarette hissed against
my skin.
I cried and you
sat with me till
I could stand without
shaking from shock and
you held me tight like
scaffolding around an
old building.
I laughed about
how my life was a
John Hughes film,
or a John Green book
or a Nicholas Sparks’ novel;
because this sort of thing
only happened
on the silver screen.
You didn’t laugh as
you bound my wrists and
dabbed alcohol
-which burned and scorched-
onto my skin. You probably
saw it as a waste of
good whisky. Irish whisky, the best,
you said.
I wish you viewed me like
you viewed your alcohol collection.
Or at least I did. I don’t anymore,
I’m glad you poured me
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
177
It is 3 AM and I am waking from
dreams where I recall
the way your lips taste and
how you drink your coffee with
frothy milk and
the way you make me laugh. I don’t know
anyone who makes me giddy
but you.
I woke up and
realised I would rather be asleep.
I miss the little things;
your pupils dilate when you lean in to kiss me
and I miss the way you lean back
and sigh when you say “I am so lucky”.
And how you make me
feel like
I am important to someone.
We had matching freckles on our arms and that
made me stupidly happy. We sat and
compared for a while and it felt like we matched.
Just like knowing we both
have bad ankles – a matching pair. We click.
I do not know much
right now but I do know
my heart sped up when
you said
“I love you” and
it has not slowed down
since. I hope you still
do. I do not
want my heart to beat
for nothing.
You turned me
back into a writer- it is often said writers
do not love you unless they
write about you
but nothing I put
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
176
I’m better at saying sorry
than I am at telling
you how I feel; you know
that.
I can apologise for crying and
ducking my head beneath your
sheets better than I
can articulate the
feelings that knot up
in my chest whenever we talk.
I think I am alright at
putting things down on
the page.
Its why I send you endless texts at
2 AM when I have been drinking
and don’t shut up for
half an hour about how you
make me feel. I apologise
in the morning but I don’t
regret it. I like the way
your name tastes on
my lips.
I could listen to you talk
for hours, and each small
inhalation you make before you
say my name, and the way
you get enthused
about things you love.
All the more so
when you ask for a kiss, with that
look in your eye like
you need me.
I was never interested in
League of Legends before
we watched the semi-final
together but now I might play.
If only so I can
keep that memory near to me -
I don’t expect you to
get into Final Fantasy for me,
don’t worry. Al
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
176
I.
You didn’t break up with me
I broke up with you
but somehow I managed with the
short end of the stick.
I was sad and had no idea
of what to do
I stayed up late searching for
answers in Ghost Hunters.
I’ve no idea why I watched that
show. It was something to do, I guess.
I tried drinking – your favourite hobby -
and all it brought up was bile
and memories.
Heck I tried smoking again
but since you stole the
breath from my lungs I haven’t
found it so easy to
blow hot air. There were other things-
films and flings, I hurt people just like
you taught me to.
It was no way to go on.
so I wrote.
170 poems.
One hundred
and seventy
fucking
poems.
All for you.
I don’t even know how
many verses that is,
probably a lot because you were
on my mind so much.
It took me months to fall in
love with you and
years to swim back to
the shallows from
where I took the plunge.
II.
this poem isn’t a
eulogy to our relationship,
if you can call it that.
because you weren
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
174
Fucking
fuck I am bad at this
romantic bullshit.
There are all sorts of words
scratching around inside
my skull and trying to get out.
But they cant because
whenever I do I clam up and
find it hard to breathe. You
stole the words from my
head.
every single one of them
and suddenly everything is quiet.
if you want me
to quote films like When Harry Met Sally
at you I can do that
because I can memorise
scripts – they are easy. Scripts,
I get.
And romance is always so
beautiful in the movies
but in real
life I cry whenever someone tells me
they love me and
it lurches painfully in my chest,
I imagine every confession of love is
etched into my ribcage.
Heck if
you want me to recite the tear-
stained confession from 10 Things I Hate About You
I really
could.
Coincidentally I cannot find ten things I
do hate about you so maybe
that’s a good thing.
(although when you bite your lip
at me I hate it. But not really).
Everything is beautiful in the movies and
romance always works out
an
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0
Literature
Untitled 171
you pulled me close,
an arm around your waist
and i knew you had
waited years
to hold me in such a way
and you
sighed and told me
my heart was beating fast.
I know you wanted me
to say it was
beating for you
but it wasn’t. it hasn’t.
And you didn’t
tell me those words that
I knew were on the
tip of your tongue.
and i know when you moved
in to kiss me
you had meant to
confess everything but
I did not let you.
and those words are still
locked up
inside. but
I had seen them in
your eyes and your smile
earlier that day
I just did not
want to hear them.
:iconPost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl
:iconpost-punk-girl:Post-punk-girl 0 0

Favourites

Teenage Wasteland by CorporateRockWhore Teenage Wasteland :iconcorporaterockwhore:CorporateRockWhore 20 43 Tenth Doctor by Carnivius Tenth Doctor :iconcarnivius:Carnivius 211 33
Literature
Beauty in hand
Beauty in hand.
Repugnant all over.
Fix fix fix.
Your insides don’t look too right.
Your mind’s a mess.
Fix fix fix.
:iconpshyo:pshyo
:iconpshyo:pshyo 2 3
Literature
Suspense
There were times when I managed to look in the mirror.
I could see lines of past and present as clear as the day.
I know what nobody knows;
How it comes and where it goes.
Devils start to spark some questions.
Is it real? Is it vivid? Is it true?
How about you?
I felt brought down and torn apart
Just like my feelings turn to art.
I felt glorified in vain,
Lost and gathered through the rain.
They downed me from day to day.
Time flew by, nothing to say.
Past is sung – insanity sane.
I couldn’t pray.
And so they hunted me that day.
Just as the wolf takes down its prey,
Just as the night devours light,
Just as I blinked and you were gone…
… the same happened to your might…
Sometimes I think I love you too much.
I think I love you more than you do.
Sometimes I think I might be gone
Like I once arrived from somewhere else…
I love you, darling. I really do.
How about you?
I cry through perfect pain for I couldn’t do it in sweet tears.
I try to esc
:iconBrici5:Brici5
:iconbrici5:Brici5 12 3
Literature
Close your eyes and fall
I close my eyes again
Take this hit of darkness
Her claws envelope me sweetly,
She's evil
But I love her grasp
She takes my hand
and dances slowly
taunting me with fate
She knows the end I see in my heart
She feels my fear and amplifies my pain
with blocks and brick
My mausoleum's been built
the metaphorical monolithic testament to my life
It's broken foundations and crumbling archways
Beauty ruined by the hammers of my heart
It's time to creep back to reality
Open my eyes to all that's real
Creep. Crawl. Clamber.
This Mistress of Night guides me with her eyes of illusion
Dancing and playing,
she'll let me go
But not without playing my end
Guided by blinding pain filled saviors
to the edge of freedom
the edge of home and sanity
She promises me it all
and breaks me down as I fall
:iconDeaths-Lament:Deaths-Lament
:icondeaths-lament:Deaths-Lament 7 4
Edwin and Ted by jflaxman Edwin and Ted :iconjflaxman:jflaxman 318 34 DaveJohn #2 by HatsukoiProductions DaveJohn #2 :iconhatsukoiproductions:HatsukoiProductions 3 0 I absolutely plan to stab you in the back by Lando-XD I absolutely plan to stab you in the back :iconlando-xd:Lando-XD 3 1 Berserk - Guts by RiKyo5 Berserk - Guts :iconrikyo5:RiKyo5 4 3
Literature
Rain
Rain falls on my face
drips down my raven hair
tumbles down my shoes
Slips onto the ground
pitter-patter of heartbeats
paints over blue sky
Puddles collecting
reflecting happiness now
weather the storm
:iconRoseScarlet:RoseScarlet
:iconrosescarlet:RoseScarlet 8 6
Literature
Silent Pains
Crossed into the streams of negligence, framed in the scandal of insanity.
Blessed by the ethereal banished ones, betrayed by hymns of profanity.
Shattered mirrors crashed down upon the skin of youth, extracted from their weary bodies the specific Vein of Truth.
Such bleeding wires enlaced their eyes, their flesh so pink and blue.
Countless dull measures of false accuracy bound to their every screw.
Never spoken, never raised, never seen, never praised.
Always silent, always dead, forevermore they rest on a thread.
:iconPlethoraFantastique:PlethoraFantastique
:iconplethorafantastique:PlethoraFantastique 16 7
Literature
Give Her The Moon
They lay in the grass, gazing at the stars. They may have been an arm’s breadth away from each other, but here they were closer than they ever were. When they lay in the grass, looking into the glinting eyes of the night sky and talking – that was where they were the most at home. It didn’t matter how trivial their conversations were, how long they went on or if they said just the right words, as long as they were talking to each other… everything was alright.
That’s when she said it. He asked her what he could do – what he could give her – to prove himself, so that they might truly be together instead of just together. He never forgot her answer.
“The moon,” she’d said, smiling.
They laughed for a moment, and she continued.
“You know how I feel about that question… but if you can give me the moon, then I will change my mind.”
He knew what she was really saying, that she was asking for the impossible
:iconThatOneWriterGuy:ThatOneWriterGuy
:iconthatonewriterguy:ThatOneWriterGuy 8 5
Literature
My China Doll, My Bull and My Maker.
I think that,
Perhaps,
Language isn't needed.
I think that perhaps algebra isn't needed either.
I suppose
we should pick one
and focus on it.
Make it good and competent.
We can sew an angel with the words of a china doll,
draped in lace,
Or construct one with the double horns of a mathematical bull -
You choose.
But have you ever seen a paper match lit?
Read the notes.
MATH BULLETIN IN THE ANTHOLOGY:
Both the chapters are parallel.
Quick.
Round up the oxen and the porcelain before they leave the pen
(cil)
Quick!
Latin died and the maker wants the rest of civilisation.
QUICK!

Give it a second and you'll think it too,
Perhaps.
:iconAquitius:Aquitius
:iconaquitius:Aquitius 4 2
Reading a fairytale by suikaFIN Reading a fairytale :iconsuikafin:suikaFIN 6 0 RE6: Go in to China! by A2Glloriame RE6: Go in to China! :icona2glloriame:A2Glloriame 8 3 Plague II by katarzynas Plague II :iconkatarzynas:katarzynas 43 1

Critiques

Activity


its almost been like
a year since I updated here.
whoops.

i had a really shitty year and Ive almost given up on dA, in all honesty, because it's full of rubbishy poets and amateurs and the community is elitist and unpleasant to be in. tbh the creators of this site need to do something to stop meme reposts and art theft and actually refine the community into what it used to be - art - junk like that.

ramble aside I guess people on here might still give a fuck? ive no idea, Im hoping a few of the old faces I used to talk to still linger and are around so I can reconnect. might start reposting things - ive been drawing again, not much and not well, but yeah. 

uh so update on the past year.
I got into uni and then dropped out after an attempt but hey I passed my a-levels even if it nearly killed me. Sunk into really bad depression, as to be expected when youve had the life I have. uH, diagnosed with several long-term serious conditions. I got a boyfriend and we've been together 6 months now. Only the second boy I've properly dated for more than 3 days. my gerbil died but I got some guinea pigs. Several family members died and I've been to far too many funerals.
  • Listening to: Bauhaus
  • Reading: Grimm Fairytales
  • Watching: Pacific Rim
  • Playing: Shank
  • Eating: Nothing
  • Drinking: Coffee.

deviantID

Post-punk-girl
Jay
Artist | Student | Literature
United Kingdom
I'm Jay, but if I like you then you are allowed to call me Tiger, Eric, Pi or JJ. I'm 18.
I wish upon so many stars that I am sure they must be tired of hearing from me, and I do not believe in love.
I enjoy a variety of things, including comics and video games, along with reading, writing, and sleeping - which I do as often as possible. I'm probably what you'd call a nerd, or a geek, or maybe both.
Currently, I'm studying film and media and hope to go on to do media at uni, and to maybe become a scriptwriter.
My tumblr can be found here: stealingfirefromprometheus.tum…
My poetry blog here jaybirdpoetry.wordpress.com/
And my twitter here: twitter.com/JayIsANerd
Don't be a stranger now! I enjoy talking to people.
Interests

Groups

:iconpublishing-group: :iconclubcosplay: :iconcosplay4you: :iconcosplay-stuck:

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconnaturaldreamer18:
NaturalDreamer18 Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2016
Happy birthday!
Reply
:iconnaturaldreamer18:
NaturalDreamer18 Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2015
Happy birthday~!
Reply
:iconnaturaldreamer18:
NaturalDreamer18 Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2014
Happy birthday!
Reply
:iconthe-scribbly-fairy:
The-Scribbly-Fairy Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2013  Student General Artist
Happy Birthday!!!
Reply
:iconnaturaldreamer18:
NaturalDreamer18 Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2013
Happy birthday!
Reply
:iconnaturaldreamer18:
NaturalDreamer18 Featured By Owner May 17, 2013
Here you go~

[link]
Reply
:iconpost-punk-girl:
Post-punk-girl Featured By Owner May 18, 2013  Student Writer
ooh wow uwu*
Reply
:iconnaturaldreamer18:
NaturalDreamer18 Featured By Owner May 18, 2013
Ha ha XD I love the expression. :3
Reply
:iconvanhir:
Vanhir Featured By Owner Mar 19, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
MORNING.
Reply
:iconpost-punk-girl:
Post-punk-girl Featured By Owner Mar 24, 2013  Student Writer
NO
Reply
Add a Comment: