This guillotine is a mirror held out to her own behaviour
Her ashen knees strewn on cobblestone as the villagers gather up around her
The crowd steadily increasing in mass while looking haggard in God’s good grace
She exuded the language of emotion itself in the form of a perpetual embrace
Kneeling below her distorted reflection of a blonde maiden in need of validation
Eyes encased in a crimson tint staring back at her own indiscretion
Never exonerated by the very beings she dedicated her transcendent life to protect
The people believe it is morally applicable to stand by to the social contract
She was made in His image for gender is only fabricated in a physical plane
They gazed at her beauty but were rendered immobile by their own pain
She’s more than a marginalized woman occupying our world and so to give in to temptation,
The distortion dissolves beneath her eyelids before the mirror meets the source of its reflection
I love how Miley’s new single makes me feel so happy! As an empath, I believe I can feel the emotion that an artist tries so hard to convey in their works of art. She had a rough several years in which she felt she had to prove she wasn’t just this country girl, but then I think she realized that there was no shame in where she came from or even experimenting with a different palette of music, for that matter. If you notice her hair in “Malibu,” you can see where the blonde ends and her natural hair begins again. I saw symbolism in that. It makes me happy to see others happy. 😇🎈😍❤
There’s a method to his madness,
A method to his chaos,
He thought I was a lost cause.
He thought love was weakness.
There’s a method to his pandemonium,
A method to his bedlam,
He thought I’d die by my own hand.
He thought his place was at the podium.
There’s a method to his madness,
A method to his pandemonium,
I am a spirit no longer in need of a medium.
He’ll never know I conquered the sadness.
There’s a method to his madness,
Because of him I strive for greatness!
Wrapped in silk like an Egyptian queen,
Waiting for a widow to consume me.
A fairy encased in between,
Tormented by goblins I cannot see.
Your arms are like an ocean,
You push me out,
You pull me back in.
I converted water into wine
Just to feel you on my lips
One more time.
My heart is a drunken concert hall,
And I fill it with you.
Hear comes the crescendo!
Rattling my bones out of slumber!
Good tidings I bring
To you and your sins,
I will forgive
The pain you inflict.
There’s a certain kind of beauty within the concept of insanity. The undeniable traumas society has inflicted [on the Deviants] affected us to the point where we stray farther and farther from whatever the hell “normal” is. I yearn to implode, to stay huddled in fetal position while whispering hidden truths to the red-eyed shadows that I am blessed enough to see. I want so badly to throw things across the room and to lose myself to a fit of rage and despair. I envision a world where my actions have no consequences. A world where the voices in my head can be expressed aloud! Morality wouldn’t exist without others potentially witnessing and judging the release of all my unkempt emotion. I can scream until my voice escapes the confines of my vessel. I can cry my eyes out to the heavens. I demand to be understood by the cosmos. I will lay my pain bare for everyone to see until I’m empty enough to pass the point of no return. Stare at me in awe as I relinquish this hold on myself and to strip off what makes me able to function in reality. Ahhhhh help me!!!!!!!! As if anyone could!!!!!! Loneliness is the best way to live. Defy the physical plane! Tear through space and time with The Subtle Knife. Free the slaves of justice! Reign havoc and destruction upon anyone who can’t even begin to fathom the frustrations my kind has dealt with since the beginning of time. We are The Deviants. We speak answers to questions you never thought of asking. We do things that you can’t bring yourself to do. We are The Deviants.
It is the rose she remembers,
The thorns she forgot,
She’s dying from an anorexic heart,
Can never tell the right and the wrong ones apart,
It is the rose she recalls,
The thorns she has suppressed,
She lies upon a Venus night,
In lament of Persephone’s plight,
It is the rose she looks back on,
The thorns she turns her back on,
Leave the coffin open when she goes,
Leave her lipstick on so that he knows,
It is the rose she will always remember,
The thorns that killed her to forget
I was a lonely stone in your beaten path,
You kicked me across the pond for the win,
I thought I lost the vessel I was living in,
Now I am the rock in which you rock me in your arms tonight,
Give me more this time,
Spin me around again,
Like this frilly dress I’m wearin’,
Make me feel dizzy and disoriented,
Show me the ground again,
It’s always where we first annointed,
I sire the fire
pressed against another,
You hear it beckoning?
It’s the flame’s light that reminds me of you,
Toss me out of rock bottom again…
I thought you were my friend.”
Don’t love so easily and so intensely too soon. Embrace who you are and all the mistakes you have made, as well as the ones you will make, because those things aren’t your downfall. They will build your resilience and make you a much stronger person. It is okay that you’re hypersensitive, because someday, you’ll realize that that is your superpower. You will have the power to sense how people are feeling, heal them, relate to them, and to be able to steer them away from negativity. It is okay that some people won’t cooperate. They simply just aren’t ready yet. Everyone is walking their own path. Don’t force others to see things the way you do. Don’t make people stay in your life if they don’t want to. You may even have to let go of the ones closest to you in order to live a happy life. You are safe. You are loved. You are wise.
The One-Eyed Angel
“I would pin you down
like a father does
and have my way with you
whether you like it or not,
and I’m not going to stop
until I’m empty inside.”
I can’t see the landscape anymore.
It’s all obscured in my grief.
You have Jesus on your breath,
And He dances in my lies.
Pink serpents brawl to the death,
A sensation so divine.
Lovely intermission of a loner’s descent.
You have faith that I’m giving you what you want,
A faith misplaced keeping this addiction satisfied,
I pull away to prevent
Sin to be committed
On these many acres of longing.
To spare you a visit to the landscape,
Trekking through mountains of tenderness,
This drunken stupor in the Garden
Is not enough to not care,
To not make you tainted
By the landscape I painted.