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I rarely have been tender
and never yet too young

I forget to speak in words
for barely woman still
I am no maiden

and downstairs
a swastika hangs upon his wall
in Poland, sex follows love
my body’s mother tongue is hate
in spite, and that, I let him -

but as he mimes his victory
keep one eye always open

he dares then call me scared
but we are not in Poland
which lips, say you, should seal?
to you, are all our tongues uncouth?

I flail in melodrama, gasp submergence
but know to resist drowning
instead, a Gorgon, suck him dry
then thankfully alone, high tide -
here, briefly: close both eyes.

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I am bleeding out;
an infuriatingly internal bleeding out
from veins denied their venom
my blood is clean, and red -
does this mean I can heal?

I am made guilty;
enlisted to this beastly chore, I ooze
refuse whilst scrubbing raw
I am made untenable;
I am made pure.
She’s leaving.

-- and I would kill
to replace these reddened cells
with a shot; sharp gullet
my alcohol days parch dry
like the flowers on my wall,
this is temporary.

So I tend myself reluctantly
with hands queerly post-natal
for whomever this month leaves.
It was violent:

the way she sucked steps dry,
pock-marked her suction

bedraggled so!
- as we, her limpid sluts
gorged on her greedy tides

these unending too, and thus upended
and I am small, but swollen on her banks
swung outside her grasp
slung lusty, birth-bare nude,
flung in her arms

I always dreamt of drowning

instead I shyly teeter by her
she; and her violence

but I wear bruises well
and from her, through her
my lips, blue rosebuds swell
I am
and violet tinted, I cry out
flush pinkly pained in loss
she heaves me free

for violence, she's the hardest thing to claim.
cat-scratched blind;
I cede my waned moon lenses
lost prone upon his floor
I think, besides my senses.

I painted hair sky blue,
bleached life from it:
I died

yet find my redhead mother
watching from my mirrors
I stare her down, but I blink first
I thirst for her: deny.

Then fright, is he behind,
is he inside
is he, will he define me?
I see her;
find him in her
and know (not) what to do.

sit lonely now, spark matches, sulphur sweet -
and hope I am as strong as people claim.
Do I know who you think I am, do you?
for I recognise her less than any else
and still avoid my mirrors.

I lose myself with you,
is this allure? Strung out on you
I am racked up, keen softly
in something aping love, but more.
Trash sentience, renounce control
read in your dialect, I am
am not. No more.

the Creek deflates;
the tendrils of a mighty exhale snake
their way back to the Thames.
I burn my cigarettes, and surface watch
scared of what lies beneath
scared of the mud that lies -
the swans have left, but in the mulch
the stoic Creek weeds thrive.
wake, or come to:

sat, your drapes shun sunrise -
my languorous doll, my Peter Pan Lolita
tell me, cigarette whisper me -
tell me, do, and then confide:
how can you bear
to DJ wearing pants that fucking tight?

Escapist equipage: torn silver skins;
vagrant potions; stray powders
halo you safe as circled salt
as bleary as your creamy lipstick
your lipless voice; rimless eyes
that, in eclipse, swallow themselves

- like these routine nights we forget,
blacked out; wake sulking on our wrong sides
as our spines lock eyes blindly

- and now you're twice my age
for just a single month
but who've you got to boast to?
You tell me,
slurring roach lipped
tell me that I'm fucked -
but ain't that why I came? I ask
tongue in whose cheek, between whose teeth -

and haven't we, and aren't we becoming?
When you still, even now, you try to DJ
wearing pants that fucking tight?
as hell.


chesscakes's Profile Picture
Artist | Student | Literature
United Kingdom
"My thoughts are messy, my emotions are messy, my body goes in and out at will. The raised white scars on my arms and legs are the only aspect of my being that comes close to minimalism. They came from chaos, but it is hard to carve frustration and unease into the flesh. Only straight lines." - Emma Forrest. This is why I write.

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MrFabulousFox Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2014  Student General Artist
Sargeant-Knoxx Featured By Owner May 9, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Incredible literature. :D Love it!
rainylainy Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2013
Love all your work. New to this so hopefully will have the time to put up my short stories in time. If you have a moment listen to world at large by modest mouse. Poetry in music. I feel by your writing you may like this song, if not already heard it :) Keep writing x
0hgravity Featured By Owner Aug 13, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you for the fav ^^
chesscakes Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2013  Student Writer
No problem, loved your work. x
0hgravity Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
^^; glad you did.
schriftsteller Featured By Owner Feb 21, 2013   Writer
I just wanted to say that Thin Skin was the book I turned to with every error in my life, every new scar and heartbreak, every mistake I made. I have loved the lines from your deviantID for as long as I can remember. I haven't actually met anyone else who knows about Emma Forrest so I was both shocked and delighted to see her up there. Also, congrats on your DD-- it was lovely. :)
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