synthwrr

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Cringing by synthwrr, literature

Literature

Cringing

So love's affection, but love's also letting Love's trust, she says it's also forgetting And not getting. Every layer of my skin melts and her finger-touch, but that's not just trust - I wake to her watching and wonder if earned, honest, sweet, fierce but true can even get through, with angel-hands sanctifying, mesmerizing, if she can get through it all, with steely determination still in her eye (Everything she touches she makes new, mostly accidentally, so sometimes I come with stretcher in tow Messiah, please touch this one now) - It's not just trust she earns by forgetting she was talking (my sweet you, here, we were walk

Lots of like by synthwrr, literature

Underground by synthwrr, literature

Literature

Underground

you are well-seated in time, and I slide. Though my mom could see the pavement through the car floor I missed it all: you are well-seated in time, and I slide. But can we be? Earth grasps and the slick city streets grease our souls So how are you well-seated? With the heavy hands of industry on your back you slip through and out the other side sinking into the waiting arms of Earth, yet ungreased, and I slide by. Whoever heard of Stalingrad? the Redcoats, and apartheid, and who ever cared or noticed past a glimpse of the U.S.S.R. (God knows who they are) "The echo boom" sounds cold, like MTV and limewire, and I shudder at

Hazmat by synthwrr, literature

We Who Aren't by synthwrr, literature

Literature

We Who Aren't

I. What's not broken? We plankton, we flock to the whole (the hole) we rot over the halfway there and ever so far away. What's not broken? In Her I see the whole, but what drives that machine? (We are low on gasoline.) What's not broken? Yet it must be. II. My Google search history is unimportant and vital, life-full. You'd think it dull. Who are you with? and so, Who are you? I fear to hear you now, but if your demon appeared I would fight it, spend my dying breath alight it. Not to prove, only for you. III. I'm not in heaven now. This new life is filled with glittering glamour and humble simplicity. You won't

Not Mine by synthwrr, literature

Passing in a way by synthwrr, literature

Literature

Passing in a way

How eyes follow with hands grasping and powerful shoulders can look like heaven, even in sharp clarity of adrenalin as you hit the ground. If one day I were to see her on the walls of a cathedral in breathing color, no details lost - deadly angel, then blushing maiden - in perfect dignity, I'd be Catholic again. With what devotion you are here, friend, but living color forgets how desperate how dangerous it is, and how fast - skin rips, and brittle bones - "I'm sorry, I think I stepped on your face," Squatting 85 pounds won't do it in this my new faith. Beautiful woman, I am more than being late or not showing at all. I am

July 4th by synthwrr, literature

Literature

July 4th

the only sound we make is soft echoes of the great. Ananya Roy smells like she cares how she smells and glitters. She walks into a room and we pay homage as Americans do. Idol, you cannot sway us. We are American (and you are independence) following like dogs. I am less female for my independence. What about dykes on the bottom, bitch? And yet I am less a woman for that. The next morning everything has turned to crap. In the bathroom I think of cameras trained at my boss my friend I believe in your cause but it's my job eight dollars an hour and my honor is worth your dirty words and independence, and my body is the

Slow City by synthwrr, literature

Literature

Slow City

Each day I hum the sun down But once each week I Wake to watch the city sleep. A soft furry haze breathes slowly on the hill barely stirring. It shows its skin only in glimpses. Dreams haunt the streets, some worship the dollar, some the senses As equals they brush past. "Broadway, Blanding Avenue" echoes from two blocks away and another blood cell of the city roars by. Like my roommate the Bay slaps snooze on the sun sleeping on.

No Home by synthwrr, literature

Literature

No Home

(my severed friendship-strings still ache so be careful when you pull) I make a home alone until they come back with the chasers and we drive the dawn back (chasers and grass do city lights well flash fog) I wonder how coming home is better but bitter and sweet Strange to feel the echoes of so many when the house is empty and dead around me so many frayed edges we call them brooms, and sweep the floor with shaking hands, but friendship-strings just leave black stains under the table and unwashed dishes. This place becomes home and I almost forget what it's missing blood and stronger things. Bittersweet. Just think -

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Cringing by synthwrr, literature

Literature

Cringing

Lots of like by synthwrr, literature

Underground by synthwrr, literature

Literature

Underground

Hazmat by synthwrr, literature

We Who Aren't by synthwrr, literature

Literature

We Who Aren't

Not Mine by synthwrr, literature

Passing in a way by synthwrr, literature

Literature

Passing in a way

July 4th by synthwrr, literature

Literature

July 4th

Slow City by synthwrr, literature

Literature

Slow City

No Home by synthwrr, literature

Literature

No Home

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subjectivereality

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number1catmanac

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spoems

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Self-Intoxication

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surely, you agree by spoems, literature

Literature

surely, you agree

surely, you agree the non-existent cannot feel lugubrious my empty words, i’m tired of such recherché bejewelry a prayer, if such a thing can be bellowed ‘bove the weepy din of shrieking zealots, mad for love, just as i am overcomes my relevance swallowed – at least something consumes me. i am doomed for feinting flesh incompletely in it and so soon out made for the hot death the cold wait i wonder when will the First Mover sleep? ________ i watched her at the doorway fresh from pressing our hopes together oh, disinterested specters!!!!! how her eyes shot down the

7 20 by velnon, literature

Literature

7 20

buildings don't crumble Doctor, operation is a success and a new metropolis appendage is glimmering dimly old men with stars in their eye gum along & say the new extension is the ugliest damn thing they've ever seen young hip individuals with stars in their eyes turn up their escapist music and keep their eyes down either way, the building is here now and the old one cannot be rebuilt even in dreams

save a tree by spoems, literature

Two Divided By One by AlecBell, literature

Literature

Two Divided By One

Your flesh, your warm robe of mystery, moulds to the touch. Is there so much that I can share with you? We press close together, we dream of boundaries melted and fusing. Can we imagine Plato’s story true, that a unity existed once for every stricken two that struggles now to undo finally that ancient separation? Yet both of us can recognise the curse that locates within us two separated beating hearts. We can smile at the ancient philosopher’s joke, knowing that our isolation must choke us both eventually.

An Entire Poem. by Self-Intoxication, literature

Literature

An Entire Poem.

There are a lot of things I think you won't like about me, like the way I sometimes kiss you with poisons in my mouth, like you may never want to kiss me again, if I do that too much. Or maybe the way I look when I pray after I've torn off my entire face. I think you won't like the way I sleep and eat and breathe. Today I didn't shave my legs or anything else my hair looks greasy with oil because I hate showers. I wish that I were prettier, skinnier, richer, I wish my vocabulary were bigger, I wish I were a woman, or even a girl. I wish that I did not hold in my love, my affection, my ent

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Eraser by synthwrr, literature

Eraser

synthwrr

About synthwrr

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July 31
United States
Deviant for 19 years
She / Her

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synthwrr

Mar 29, 2011

New Account!

0 min read

https://chipperdyke.deviantart.com/

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synthwrr

Aug 2, 2009

Old friends...

0 min read

At one point, probably a year or two ago, I deleted my entire watch list. I was getting 30 deviations a day, and I was literally unable to keep up with it all. I said, to myself and probably on my journal (although maybe not, I only have 10 entries total), that I would only read the writing of people who had already read mine. I just went through my scanty list of favorites (you all know that I fave like once every three months, right?), and I was remembering all those lost friends. I've been on dA for four years. Most of the authors of my old faves haven't logged in three of them. I wonder what they're doing? Have they just made new account