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Literature
they(?)
from blue emerged
you
and you asked me
to identify
the part of me
that is a trick
question
question,
what is a/gender
me?
i'm not so sure
this dys-
phoria/flora/
fluorescent lights
and some days
i can't say i'm sure
i'm even a person
call me she they he
call me whatever
no
one ever calling
what does it matter
i feel like such a
cliche
i'm a clicking ballpoint
no ink except for
what they gave me
they
what's in a name./
what's in a noun./
pro-
logging every instance
where i can't see
what i should be
who am i?
who cares?
all these labels
stuck to me
masking tape on an
identity i have barely
bared
even to myself.
disaster
is a better fit
than
girl
but at least when i am she
they are calling me
at all
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 34 5
Literature
iv. untitled
bubbles spirit through my brain
      and i waver -
                       eighth note mysteries
                       floating melisma with the waves;
spirits bubble through my frame
      and these ghosts have been absent
      such a long time
                          and these ghosts have been
                          echoing
                    echoing
               echoing
a glimmer of freedom,
the lid of this mirrored pool
reflecting something                                reflecting something
new      
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 17 3
Literature
iii. a dandelion love story
i.
(i am) a twist
of curling leaves
aimless as i wander,
in a woodland drift of forever
yearning
(alone)
for some grove or thicket
where i can take root.
ii.
(you
were) a glimpse of the sun,
a clearing in the
dark.
both light and shelter
yet pausing here was futile,
(not for me.)
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 27 5
Literature
ii. wry smiles over ristretto rhythm
bleary eyed and (y)earning
dollars through my day
a caffeine hurricane
is my existence,
all shuddering and
a wake-
(order) up, call
their bluff and give a glass
call them slim, call it skim,
it's all full cream
on the figure
weary sighed and stumbling
footsteps headed home
and we repeat
ad infinitum.
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 14 3
Literature
i. i live in the light, even without you
having collected dawns
for as long as i can
remember
the days that come now
with the sun on my lids
and hope underneath,
no memory of how
they arrived;
the days that come now
seem out of place.
having collected dawns
for as long as i can
remember
it is a strange thing
to live in the sunshine
without your light
to bless the morning.
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 39 5
Literature
s(moth)er (wings)
i-
home is where the static is
                                     & i am where the static lives
ecstatic                                                                    
              white noise bats
            in the attic of us
          (s)wallowing,
        hollowing out open mouthed
secrets
& i've always wanted you
more deeply than i'm willing
to admit
ii-
& i'm thinking baby, 
touch me:
every inch of my body 
                               is (nerve) 
         
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 41 36
Literature
ever in the making
/ and one morning i will wake before the sun / and one
morning i will wake before the sun and kiss your eyelids
awake / i will kiss your eyelids awake and curl us
further into the disarray of our early morning sheets /
be my breath, enrique / be my air and i will take your
breath into myself / and i will take your breath into
myself with the promise of a lifetime in our ebb and flow
/ count milestones with me, enrique / you fell to slumber
counting breaths, now help me / help me count the
mornings and the kisses / help me count the rays that
cross your eyes / count daytimes and night lights and
milestones across the years / and with the promise of a
lifetime in our ebb and flow we will grow / we will grow
and twist in the silences and cacophonies of our world /
we will grow in one another / build a home with me,
enrique / in one another we will build homes and gardens
and tangled bedsheets / build a home with me, and with
the quiet brush of skin across skin, one morning will
become all
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 34 7
Literature
genesis, us
you create me new-
fangled and wanting,
with the breath of dawn
suppressing our glowing
screens
you create me anew
in moments and in days,
distance nothing more
than a leap two souls
will once day
bound
you create me new
smiles that are just
ours and just hours
of it, even when our faces
fizzle into pixel
particles, it's
us
you create me in new
connections and nude
confidence, we shake
in tandem and your hand
is (in) mine,
always
and
you create me a new
foundation standing
on brittle ground,
and you are solid.
and you are a
constant.
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 31 14
Literature
fraudian (slips, landslides, baby steps)
prologue.
i meet naked eyes in the mirror.
don't look down, don't look down.
sometimes it feels as if the weight i carry
sits in layers, memories that unravel
as my gaze glances.
slide eyes downward, 
take the plunge.
i. wishful innocence
twelve years old, 5'4", 
60 kilos of never-thought-about-weight
and mother speaks to my bikini-clad body;
"why don't we go on a diet together?
just a couple kilos off, 
and we'll be perfect."
mum's been dieting since forever,
you name it, she's done it. 
she's 56 kilos, 5'3", 
and it's never enough. 
this is the first time 
she's tried to pull me into her world, 
but it will not be the last.
ii. between worlds
at thirteen my face lives blemished 
and i wear my curls in a scraped back bun 
because the uncontrollable frizz
embarrasses me.
i compare myself to my classmates,
straighten my hair and learn
to hold my stomach in;
thinner than one,
but not another.
i don't l
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 40 24
Literature
s/e/(au)x
soft lashings strapped to skin / demure slip into
frame / i want impression stained hips / leaving a
dress without skeleton / hellion with cliff-hanging
breaths / my throat catches what you drop / and
digging is trapping / trapping is freeing / holding
you close / in a strapless grasp / can you feel
your heart in your esophagus / the way our lips lap
in duo?
/ /
vague flesh altogether connected / fling clothing
into tandem absence / pull bodies closer to home /
feeding a delicate balance with gasping / with
clasping / and i am all filled shudder / and you curve
dimpled moans / our beat thrums everywhere, there /
our breath catches behind teeth / and, carelessly
bitten, settles in between / we are held /
we hold.
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 26 14
Literature
xix/era
i.
enrique,
we are halves
come together
at last.
we are (w)hol(l)y,
hands outstretched
and clasping one another;
you are
(all).
ii.
nineteen (love) letters
for nineteen's nineteen years
building a man
from the ground
up.
creation gloried
at your genesis.
iii.
rivers run,
blurring ink
and testing resolve
but you,
you are the steady hand
at the center of the world.
iv.
i fell in love 
with my best friend.
v.
quiet moments
played accompaniment
to our courtship
of torrential words,
sweeping the current of
your form;
you are monumental
and unprecedented.
vi.
unravel your mysteries
spool by spool
(and i will unravel mine),
let us whorl them
into the foundations
of our lives;
vii.
enrique,
walk with me
always.
/
viii.
realisation strikes
a constant joyous hum
and i know
i am so utterly blessed
in you.
ix.
all along,
loving you was
an inevitability.
x.
faltering faultlines
never posed a threat 
to you;
you stitched schisms
into scratches in
nights blinked sleepless
at
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 18 10
Literature
a.iii
xiv.
and if you have a minute
i'll take you somewhere
only we know
trace the lines of you
with saviour,
etch faith into your ankles,
and fold upon your hips
origami
xv.
love,
growing in
intricacy with
our years
xvi.
a blessing
unparalleled,
you wreathe miracles
through all;
all are made greater
for having loved
you.
xvii.
now listen,
my cosmonaut,
for these are things
i need to tell you:
xviii.
i find safety
clasped within
the galaxy 
of your arms,
forever painted
as constellations
at the corners
of your mouth.
xix.
zenith soaring
ever skyward;
enrique,
you are forever
(tr)a(n)scending.
chalking heavenly
fingerprints
over my so(u)l.
walk with me
always.
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 14 6
Literature
r.ii
viii.
realisation strikes
a constant joyous hum
and i know
i am so utterly blessed
in you.
ix.
all along,
loving you was
an inevitability.
x.
faltering faultlines
never posed a threat 
to you;
you stitched schisms
into scratches in
nights blinked sleepless
at my side.
faith unwavering,
fists at the ready.
xi.
all along,
you were piecing me 
(back) together
with an artist's precision.
xii.
enrique,
you are the solace 
found within murmurings after dark
found within mutterings by sunrise;
you are the home 
i never dreamed of.
walking heavenly
footprints
over my so(u)l.
xiii.
light has faded 
and words are heavy;
this is where
you found me.
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 16 5
Literature
e.i
i.
enrique,
we are halves 
come together 
at last. 
we are (w)hol(l)y,
hands outstretched
and clasping one another;
you are
(all).
ii.
nineteen (love) letters
for nineteen's nineteen years
building a man
from the ground
up.
creation gloried
at your genesis.
iii.
rivers run,
blurring ink 
and testing resolve
but you,
you are the steady hand
at the center of the world.
iv.
i fell in love 
with my best friend.
v.
quiet moments
played accompaniment
to our courtship
of torrential words,
sweeping the current of
your form;
you are monumental
and unprecedented.
vi.
unravel your mysteries
spool by spool
(and i will unravel mine),
let us whorl them
into the foundations
of our lives;
vii.
enrique, 
walk with me
always.
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 20 11
Literature
knots
mama,
i've always tied myself into knots
that bent double to please you;
when you shook i would shatter,
a frayed child waiting for the next
night spent sleepless
by your side.
mama, i used to climb trees to escape,
armed with a book and a knife i'd climb
and i never knew what i'd do if my weapons
were required but i kept them close
just the same.
i used to climb trees to cry
because you always told me
my tears were by design
but they always escaped me
like rats fleeing a doomed vessel
and i would never
have given permission
if they'd only stopped to ask.
mama,
i've always tied myself into knots
that bent double to please you;
when you break, i'm there holding
the pieces of you
that held me when i was small
and mama,
you've no trees to climb
but i'll help you leave
if you ever need
to go.
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 38 21
Literature
ophiuroidea ~ astray
'love is a two way dream'
          in my case love is only a one way street
& i still can't tell which one of us
                 is going
the wrong way
                 
           damn it
                                        i missed my turn
    i need to get out of this fast german car
                                   & off of this endless fucking freeway
we'll collide
     killing everyone on the road with our pile up
  no survivors
        leaving only devastation
 crushed like recycled aluminium cans
          compressedintocubes
 'i love you'
   
:iconLissomer:Lissomer
:iconlissomer:Lissomer 30 11

Random Favourites

Literature
00:58 - 01:10
Moon Near 1am
a monologuing eye,
what glory.
then dark bush.
Stars At 1am
Breeding fireflies.
A blink, then two.
Clouds After 1am
We are the smooth, white leaves.
Moon After 1am
The escapist moon?
No, moving clouds.
Post1amism
Tomorrow?
Today.
:iconAyeAye12:AyeAye12
:iconayeaye12:AyeAye12 16 17
Literature
Studs and Stars
I. Black chalk is less common than white,
but charcoal paints the night alive.
             Dancing with stars is easier than the moon -
             moon-dance the dust away from your day-yearning
             eyes.
Dig yourself the time of your life
and let your hole swallow you whole.
            (Don't let go of your partner's light
             or accidentally grab your knife).
Weave the blankets through her thoughts
and hide her from her mind.  
            Illuminate her heart, half-heartedly
            and kiss her dreams goodnight.
II. You hold me when I sleep,
but actually you don't;
it's your painted face that clings onto me,
           (graffitied)
and your beaded eyes,
          &
:iconAzureNebulae:AzureNebulae
:iconazurenebulae:AzureNebulae 15 126
Literature
the chemistry of softening
you adopt the melancholy tone,
memorize foreign anthems
vulnerability is a new medium to explore the separation
of voyeur and architect roiling the prefab primordial soup
lead on the eyelashes and glue on the sclera it is hard
to turn away
        in five minutes leviathan will float up fully cooked
this is the flag of a self-proclaimed republic submitting
to the wind of isolation spitting left and right
it is to pull your enemy close
to you and turn the lights out after a polar night of fighting
it is to allow yourself to be hand-
cuffed to bed for a night on earth (you say,)
                  to understand the enemy (you claim,)
to justify your little gastro-mental motions
but they do not exist, or they do
but they're irrelevant to the story you're trying to get
out of your bloodstream. because they are not the cause
of your distress,
                 you're tangled
:iconghostinafog:ghostinafog
:iconghostinafog:ghostinafog 22 10
Literature
Moira (Excelsior)
Moira (Excelsior)
hands clap over my eyes
like a chain clasp 
linking lace around my neck.
connecting cheer
and our clutch.
splitting into a wide upward curve,
canines and incisors cut through screens.
time rotates in a downward degree
360 degrees infinitely,
but the days are confined to finite.
and if i could, i'd connect the 12 lines
and walk along them endlessly. 
i'd lose the ability to dream
and i'd never have to mingle
with the cousin of death.
living forever as a verb,
until time laps around the track
about 10 million times before
it has lost its legs.
i don't wanna sleep,
i want to dream
in an empirical reality.
hold the old time in my hand
and let the prospect bleed
into the prophecy. 
:iconchromeantennae:chromeantennae
:iconchromeantennae:chromeantennae 32 54
Journal
How was your day?
Hello, everyone! How are you all doing on this lovely day?
It's been so hot for the last few days here, so me and my family decided to go canoeing! Definitely something I won't forget any time soon - I was probably the most scared out of all of us, though.
I literally just got home and got the idea - why not showcase some of the artists and poetry that I've enjoyed since I've joined this amazing community? So here are a few of them:
Honestly-Not
She's one of my favourite poetry writers on dA at the moment, her writing style is something that I can't even describe. Her work is such an inspiration to me, a new writer.

Lisommer
I think she could write about just anything, and I'm sure I'd still enjoy it with all my heart. Plus, she's an awesome human being! This one particular poem definitely touched me:
:iconjustayne:justayne
:iconjustayne:justayne 2 10
Literature
Bitlets 95
My head is a lawn.
I pull hair out
like I'm pulling weeds,
treat my scalp with shampoo
like I'm using weedkiller
and the trick to tilling mania
is letting the weed take root.
:iconNichrysalis:Nichrysalis
:iconnichrysalis:Nichrysalis 10 10
Literature
Time Ticking On
At the bottom of the ocean,
air bubbles leak like sand--
an inverted hourglass.
:iconbetwixtthepages:betwixtthepages
:iconbetwixtthepages:betwixtthepages 21 11
Literature
What Remained
Half asleep, I
traced the edges of stars
with my trembling fingertips,
and that shimmering dust
left on the ridges of my fingers
were the only remnants
of my existence
:iconWindFragments:WindFragments
:iconwindfragments:WindFragments 29 15
Literature
A Poem of No One
he tells me
fix it -
i say it has a face
swamps running down in each of its eyes
weeds in its teeth
with needles for veins
it has a pulse like the tide, rolling in its ears
it snaps the necks of daisies and wonders if there’s an easier way to leave a field
it wants to know why god is everywhere but why there’s only one
angel sitting next to it in english - i say, and
it pours in a cup of its soul until the end isn't bitter
loses its heart with its keys and holds itself out in its hands
until love isn't dead-stiff anymore
it listens to clocks rattle like a box of bones
and notices that it sounds like its heart in the night.
{i think you already knew that that rattling clock was broken.}
:iconLeftUnfinished:LeftUnfinished
:iconleftunfinished:LeftUnfinished 21 4
Literature
summer storm
you once told me
my anger
was a summer storm
and that mountains
are not moved
by the rain;
but if I am to be rain, my darling,
I will bring to you my thunder;
I will wear my acid smile
and I will burn
your shining cities
to the ground.
:iconneonsquiggle:neonsquiggle
:iconneonsquiggle:neonsquiggle 35 19
Literature
The Shadow Kind
I like to watch myself in shadow,
a stranger in the dark
always following me,
and it is I who can manipulate
the stranger's dreams,
cocooning myself in illusion.
At intervals when my shadow self
dematerializes and I find myself alone,
I fathom this stranger of mine
lives other lives, it haunts the dark
and the dreams I made it dance
in the light manifest as nightmares.
When lives seem to disappear
without a trace I know
of a stranger who exists between
dimensions, a personification
of my intentions.
For at times when unbeknownst
they brush against me, passing
through the crowds they take away
pieces of me and a stranger who lurks
between the moon and the sun
follows the invisible signs
they leave behind.
But my shadow I can trust to
give nothing of itself
for it is nothing, even less than air,
but a void that on occasion
absorbs physical matter into
its nothingness.
And in silence I summon my shadow
to my side, its quietude is part
of my stranger in the dark's beauty,
we never speak of
:iconSilverWynd:SilverWynd
:iconsilverwynd:SilverWynd 2 0
Literature
last summer i rarely went outside
this isn't art and it isn't kindness. how glass accumulates in your throat and you practice holding your breath. how you pour yourself out through a hole in your chest, vacate eyes and offer skin like an apology. waking in pieces in the ruined light.
your apartment, heavy with the smell of clothes and kiwi skins, the white light streaming off the walls. you reach for words, your hands underwater. heat shivers in the street. the bicycles and leaves, colour twisting off their silhouettes. the blue wind unfurls, all the words in the kiwi, but your hands only stones. you practice slowing your heart as wires unwind. you are public transit flooding, glass in a throat shattering. a parrot pulls out its feathers, exposes the place where heart touches skin. the white ache, pouring
the bent wires of a silhouette.
closed walls where you touch skin to water, over, over. trying to wash yourself
off.
:iconmissingnumbers:missingnumbers
:iconmissingnumbers:missingnumbers 6 2
Eigeroey Fyr by studio-toffa Eigeroey Fyr :iconstudio-toffa:studio-toffa 701 34
Literature
every chance i didn't take II
You tell him about your cancer on a Sunday,
in the shower of all places, in between brunch plans
and speculations about whether or not the weather
will ever get any colder - hasn't it been the strangest November?
Just the strangest.
You casually mention that somewhere
deep in the secret space between your hips
your own cells are proliferating uncontrollably,
whispering treason and passing down forgeries,
teaching each other the steps of mitosis with alarming intent.
You don't miss a beat as you drop survival percentages
mixed in with tomorrow's rain forecast
and predictions about the game later that afternoon -
easy as breathing, even as counterfeit armies
shred through the soft tissue just below
his favorite place on your spine.
And as you stand there
calmly making conversation
and sharing the last of the soap,
he watches the water
run quiet rivers
through your hair.
:iconSuddenlyAutumn:SuddenlyAutumn
:iconsuddenlyautumn:SuddenlyAutumn 161 62
The Dead Bride by surenabf
Mature content
The Dead Bride :iconsurenabf:surenabf 686 47

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sophia kimberley
Artist | Student | Literature
New Zealand
sophia, from new zealand. asexual human, she/they pronouns. in a constant state of picking up the pieces. in search of resolution or definition. could possibly be a word-mad unicorn, analysis pending. previously susurrousity.

BA (English/Psych) | Barista | Chorister | INFP | Feminist | Survivor | Writer | Human

"Life is mainly froth and bubble
Two things stand like stone —
Kindness in another’s trouble.
Courage in your own."

- Adam Lindsay Gordon

twitter | soundcloud | last.fm
feel free to note me if you want to add me on skype or facebook
Interests
let's do this.

i'm starting 2017 up a few things and down a few things from last year. let's recap.

2016, Jan 1
had: boyfriend, sky-high rent, intense depression/anxiety, best friend/flatmate, academic probation at uni and a rock bottom gpa
did not have: any other close friends/support group, social life, doctor/therapist, self-love, money

2017, Jan 1 - starting inventory
have: cheap rent, close friends/support group(x6?), doctor/therapist to combat that intense depression/anxiety, vague social life+extracurriculars, academic probation BUT a gpa that's barely respectable
do not have: money (but rent is cheap so that'll change i hope), boyfriend (yep, distance is the worst thing to live in the middle of your relationship but we'll get into that in a sec)
on the fence: self-love... i just don't know. but that's better than knowing there's none.

brief note before i move on to the future; ricky and i aren't together anymore. no malice, just sadness. he's still my closest friend and i still love him very much. i don't love distance. we'll be okay. 

ANYWAY

what i want from 2017:
- to make much much much much more art
- to create a social media presence that accurately represents me as a person
- to focus on communication both professionally and in my personal life
- to maintain and enrich my wonderful friendships and rejoice in platonic love 
- to not fail out of uni (to get my gpa up to something that i can actually share with my parents without being ashamed)
- to sing lots and get involved with lots of singing/theatre/choir things
- to keep moving upward and onward with my mental health

what do you want from 2017, team? what will you start 2017 with that you didn't have on jan 1 2016?

share with the class.
i love you all <3

Comments


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:iconscarletwave:
scarletwave Featured By Owner May 24, 2017  Hobbyist Artist
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:iconinkstaineddove:
inkstaineddove Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday! I hope it's been a good one :hug:
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:iconladylincoln:
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday, darling girl. You are loved :heart:
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:iconsraffa:
SRaffa Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2017  Professional General Artist
:iconmc-hammer::icongigglecake::iconmc-hammer:
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:iconithaswhatitisnt:
ithaswhatitisnt Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday! :tighthug: :heart: :iconrainbowcakeplz: I hope you're having a lovely day! :happybounce:
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