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About Literature / Artist MegsFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 9 Years
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Dear Meaghan
Dear Meaghan,
I haven't told you how much I appreciate you in a long time, have I? Actually, I don't think I've ever told you how cool you are.
May I first remind you that you're a vampire's wet dream? Your veins stick out so well in the crook of your elbow. Remember when the lady doctor told you how beautiful they were? You freaked out. You're still embarassed to admit that for a split second you thought she was hitting on you. In a fucked-up way.
You are so good to your friends, and you think of them first, always. Don't lose yourself caring too much for them, and not enough for yourself, okay? There are two instances in the past where you've let yourself go, and you've caused yourself both physical and mental damage. And you're still doing it. Please, stop.
You're going to make deaf children all over Canada very happy someday, Meaghan. Don't give up your interpreting dreams, and keep moving forward. Meet the Robinsons was right. Oh, and don't let mum get you down, okay? She's
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C'est Lui Ici
failed fixations attempts
what is love
forever lost
to the cares of yesterday
jump down
the fall for the thrill
you're as lost as you feel
skeptical illusions
confusion disorientation
swayed footsteps
long time comin'
scream it
are you through bleeding for those
loved and forgotten
think twice
last chance
to make it seem
all worthwhile
had enough yet
give and take
you've given too much
she can't take it all
mistaken dreams
soundless screams
shattered glass
she bleeds
looking back
fall to pieces
deadly fun
ran too long
not what you hoped
maybe you should
for a moment
let her fix
what hasn't been broken
what is broken
and things untouched
trop de l'eau
elle se pleur
chaque nuit
elle est ici
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Deep Down
I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted me to be
And I can't explain how I feel
It's like I'm floating, but I'm floating beneath the ground
And it's hurting me, deep, deep down.
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Little Sue Little
"Congratulations!" the nurse said one crisp October morning.
Her name was Sue Little. She was the cutest of the cute.
Until one morning when she started to puke.
Her cries reached the bedroom door.
A father within there lie.
Disheveled and tired.
He staggered to his daughter's room,
And to his surprise,
A baby, slimy, with bright green eyes,
And a face so red.
Entangled in covers,
Lying flat on her back,
Another outburst,
A deadly attack.
He picked her up, put her to his chest,
And rocked his daughter until he heard her rest,
Into the playpen, so soft and clean,
He cleaned her crib till it shone and gleaned.
He placed her back, in her crib so neat,
A warm new cover, a back exposed.
To the world above, and down below,
Little Sue Little died peacefully and slow.
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she can't go on
five hundred's all gone
and he writes a song
kalaidoscope in her mind
edgy shadows
blurry models
mountains crumble
trouble follows
suivre moi
n'oubli pas
what doesn't kill you
makes you stronger
shiny porceline
acid fixation
gaudy jewelry
storms of love
fogs show truth
sprayed water
fall down
shrine colors
broken pagers
numbers counting
seventy kisses
sweet sounds
and she misses
he writes
blue black mornings
forever warnings
too much of a good thing
baggy trousers
fingersmeared mirror
chewable tablets
sink six feet
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Infantile Amnesia
Typically, before the age of three,
Memories are generally a liability.
To those who abuse, & those who cruise,
The adults take the jail fee.
Unless of course you come across,
A child who never flossed,
Not her teeth, but her neck,
A vibrant color of drops of red.
She took pleasure in that pain,
Inflicting pain upon the vein,
Little pressure stopped the twitch,
Of fingers broken from the switch.
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Built To Last
Champions of fragile wonder
Bones too shaky, roll of thunder
Troubled soul cry no longer
"If only," came the quiet whisper
She flexes her shoulders to the mirror
Clavicle-straight across the quivered
Tired muscles from cramping brows
Matted hair with a shaky sway
Blurry images of the tomorrow days
Pelvis poking further than the tip of her nose
Kneecaps breaking from the weight of her prose
Tummy withering; a solomn refuged rose
Zelleweger's bones couldn't compare
To the barely living corpse that couldn't care
Before that long, Thanksgiving fast
A twitch to floor and a leg to the cast
She wasn't quite built to last.
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In Step
I never got a look at his face.
But his shoulders sure caught my eye.
And his sax.
Shiny gold, reflecting his perfected side-step marching.
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Ana Says
How am I able to explain the feeling of complete control and power I feel when I'm living a hamster's life? Every day I run on my hamster wheel:
Five more laps...
Come on, one more...
Try harder.
Run, fatty, run!

My cage is no bigger than the globe; the pads of my feet no softer that a grit of sandpaper. Each day I run on my hamster wheel:
Zilch for breakfast...
Nothing for lunch...
...who needs dinner?

New York, Paris, France, my wheel extends to the ends of the Earth until my GOddess Mother comes to collect me at the end of the day.
Ana says, "Go fast!"
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Those Screams
I always do my best to fight it,
But sometimes his breakfast starts at dinner.

Those screams remind me of you
Not because they're girl screams,
And not because you're gay,
But because those screams are how I'd
Imagine you'd scream if I didn't wake up someday.
When I think of the sounds of the screams
A scale reading closer to zero would cause;
I pray the bathroom is soundproof'd,
Because how could you explain smiling
To a mirror that's obviously lying,
And making your throat sore from crying?
Really, what kind of screams would I hear
If I told you real-life support was only a road trip away
From your nearest Walmart?
I'd like to imagine they'd be little girl screams
And the happy screams of realizing that
I don't have enough gas money to get back home.
But we'll strike it rich saving on the money we'd never spend on food.
We'd get a flat in Paris, maybe England, and meet Brian Froud.
Then it's back to dear old France, where you can see Tank
And maybe bed him while I watch Britis
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Artist | Literature
United States
Current Residence: Colorado.
Favourite genre of music: WROCK, showtunes, indie.
Favourite photographer: Josh Matthews.
Operating System: Windows XP Home.
MP3 player of choice: iPod Nano.
Shell of choice: Scallop.
Wallpaper of choice: Tristan Himes.
Favourite cartoon character: Buggs Bunny.
Personal Quote: An ARRANGED MARRIAGE?! Good thing you're pretty.


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Add a Comment:
Takeru27 Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2008
Tchy Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2008  Hobbyist General Artist
Yaaaaaaahr! >3
Takeru27 Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2008
Aelrach8Ettamno Featured By Owner Nov 14, 2007
hey, rei~!
plaid-zipper Featured By Owner Dec 18, 2007   Writer
Heya =D
Dark1315 Featured By Owner Nov 6, 2007
Thank you for the watch!
DelKaidin Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2007
Thanks for the devwatch :)
usagistu Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2007  Professional Digital Artist
Thanks for the watch and fave!
Tchy Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2007  Hobbyist General Artist
*Instert comment train here.*
plaid-zipper Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2007   Writer
Yeah, why not? xD

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