~beigegray

singing my body unconscious

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About Me Member beigegrayFemale/United States

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Deviant for 3 Years

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Negatives

Jun 30, 2009, 2:41:03 PM by ~beigegray
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I trace the edges,
Attempting to delay the rapid color-development
Of tangible memories
Sold in tens or twenty-sevens.

I won’t smudge—
To ruin is to sin.
For with the winter,
This dies too.

For my sake,
I hope heaven is a darkroom.

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Daily Deviation.

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Unformed I'm trying to breathe but your
head-and-heart won't let me leave. You're
taking me apart in a way I once enjoyed but
I've let the secrets seep in for too long. I've let
the tattoo peel and heel. What's done is done, by me alone.

I've held a boy
together before. But
not one with your temper or
your posture or your trying, trying, trying.
My heart's a little sore, now. My eyes would like
to shut tight, rock-tight, and find a light in sleepless nights.

But, then, where could I leave myself?
What curtain would I hide behind?
What bed? What map?
What silence?
What silence?Unformed by ~beigegray

For You, For Him Forgive me for my feeble fumbles; my faults, but my
heart and head have hidden horrors, inexplicable. My
soul, succinct in sorrow, seethes at somber senses of
Trust:
Trust, heavy and complex.
Trust—a word and sentiment needing every life-force and tongue-teeth click and bumble,
a word so humble I'm unable to wrap my mind and legs around its aura.
Trust, to trust, trusting, trustworthy, words that grow tired and aged, unknown to me.

A boy took trust and ravaged me,
cruelly, only after the order was restored. After he'd settled the score.
Years of incompetence, self-defense, and fleeting insurgence built me.
I towered aboveFor You, For Him by ~beigegray

June 26th "I was about half in love with her by the time we sat down. That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty… you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are."

--

Something simple seen through
the frame of white-wooden railings—
an exaggerated laugh; your hand's hair push-back—
and I'm staggering,
unable to fully express my irrevocable need
to plead for one moment
around you.June 26th by ~beigegray

8th of June My lips taste healthily and heavily
of you—
a waxen, tasteful sort of
well-being,

leaving me to wonder
why you waited so long.8th of June by ~beigegray

I don't post with any sort of regularity. There's your warning.

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hoarded dreams + chocolate My wife has lived her life making lists of things she wants to do, but hasn't yet. They've collected in our house over the years; folded into the pages of her favorite books, or tucked between piles of filters for the coffee maker.

Every once and a while, I find one. Sometimes I tell her, sometimes I don't.

When we first moved in together I brought my things to her place item by item; adding a shirt to the closet every week, sliding a spare toothbrush into the holder in the bathroom, surreptitiously stowing beers in the back of the fridge. It was during the toothbrush incident that I found the first one, squirreled away in the medicinhoarded dreams + chocolate by *XezleX

hair liquor long leg step into the
earth and the ankles step on the
mantle how it sifts sick to its stomach

under the lamplight held
holy by the kindest man in the moon the
shoelaces untie and lick mercuric hair liquor by ~Ghrey

a salting ocean ate my hands when water
crept up the hairs pricked
by sand crab and tide

ebbing with that flow when
the moon is strictly overhead
and dissolving into the seaa salting by ~Ghrey

Last Call Resting on the mountains
like a lover's belly,
the moon calculates
the night's patrons
& percentages—

the freckles of alcohol
on women's noses,

bulbs of lust
waiting to burst
from men's chests

& the jarring effects
of bright lights
flicking on in
everyone's eyes

at closing time.

Everyone walking out
the door of gloaming

to sit on the ledge
of daylight

resembles a
familiar message—

ticking packages
of time's unexplainable plan.Last Call by ~schriftsteller

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for you by *estellamestella

All My Colours by *TommasoDB

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Where I\'m at

Jun 28, 2011, 9:00:03 AM by ~beigegray
Journals / Personal

I'm lazy with dA, but I don't plan on changing my habits. I love to read people's work but I often have to sift in order to find something I like, appreciate, or relate to. If any of my watchers have something in particular that they want me to read, feel free to ask, but I seldom check up on people (I'm about to attempt to go through 2,000 works...oops).

That being said-- are their any poetry groups for the lazy? I submit to certain ones but they have so many requirements --artist's comments, critiques, etc.-- that I get discouraged. I just want to read and reflect on poetry, and enable others to read and reflect on mine.

--

For the love, comes the burning young
from the liver, sweating through your tongue.
Well, you're standing on my sternum don't you climb down darling.

(I recommend Bon Iver, Bon Iver to anyone; it's such a good sophomore album.)

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Mood: Isolated
Listening to: Bon Iver's latest self-titled album
Reading: "Middlesex," Eugenides

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~beigegray

singing my body unconscious
Artist

United States

We pull our boots on with both hands
but we can't punch ourselves awake and all I can do
is stand on the curb and say Sorry
about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.

I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.
-"Little Beast," Richard Siken

Favourite style of art: Photography

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