Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

adalaine on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/adalaine/art/inner-dialogue-165584662adalaine

Deviation Actions

Suggested Deviants

archelyxs

Literature

Heartmind

We lost electricity on the night you left me and I spent the night curled up against the rain, drinking in the slack of damp green winds in our treasured driftwood home of mist. I had to come to think of time as a medium and my thoughts as imperfect and cursive. It was a wrinkled medium, a mediocrity of sunken breath: words condensing into droplets that so contorted my teary lenses that I couldn't tell that you were turning towards me with a sound, the sound a book makes when its leaves are rustled against the grain. Tonight my body lingers on the edge of the ocean like a gasp; New Jersey's throaty highways bear my rosefelt thou

Literature

cosmic background radiation

They say that the big bang was not an actual "bang". It was really just static. Static, like the interference of radio waves. Of course, the universe did not happen instantaneously. The big bang took 760,000 years to happen. 760,000 years of static, and bang, the universe happened. I get myself together and actually go out. I go to see the New York Philharmonic perform the works of John Cage at Lincoln Center. I walk out during the second movement of 4'33". There's a very small difference between life and death. I walk home, my chin pulled down against my neck. I hum a constant note, providing myself with my own tinnitus. I focus on this no

Literature

evolution poem

but I believe to seek unbecoming is more cultivated than stretching out the leaky fibers of a semi- circular self-image until they spiral into uncontrollable forests, cauterizing eyelids; yes, unbecoming, like picking bones out of a salmon's chest.

manadrake

Literature

The Stars and Me

The stars are no longer speaking to me. I suppose we're on uncertain terms. This day, we were meant to talk of tomorrow, write love letters to each other and paint dim yellow light, white sparkling lines, in the crevasses of each other's faces, But, I can't bring myself to - Can't warm fingers against the bones of things I should have done. And this is the way it has fallen, autumn brown, beautiful piles of useless abandon soon forgotten. Surely, the reasons we come to love each other, all those sparkling drops of eternity, cuddling close to bare skin, sweat stained, and smelling of home, and peace, and comfort. Surely,

Literature

Shadows of Whales

What I wanted to say was that I remembered the clouds, that I watched them paint shadows across the ground, giant birds of prey gliding across the aether - whales, lost in a different sea, to float white and pregnant with all the sounds of things; thundering out threats of the sky, sounds full of fury and the disease that catches you off guard "Open your door. I must come in." what I wanted to say was that the echoes are the same that the pulses of sound are just pieces of the original instead of slightly dimmer copies every one a herald of the silence, soon to come. I wanted to say things that, maybe, you'd listen to - that sort of alab

Literature

Neologism

There is a moment, tired and quiet, that lingers in the inside of a person drawing symbols on the inner walls in fingerpaints and blunted charcoal. People ask for things, in passion in passing fancy, in desperate need... people ask, and they ask, and ask loud and bleating sacrificial lambs. Why must it be for passing joy, floating through the air like prancing butterflies from marigold to globemallow and lilac - fleeting things no sooner saw then gone There are symbols I've been reading symbols that tell a story of things more than marigolds and nectar - symbols to connect impossibilities. It is a quiet jargon of signs, of a

sunshinegypsy

Literature

a memory

I remembered the afternoon I called you, curled on my bed with someone's good book in my palm, nestled softly in the waning light and under my gently roaming fingers the baby moved – not to my hand-touch, but inside, an insistent flutter, not like the swiftly beating heart on the doctor's monitor, not like the slow appearance of a plus-sign on a drugstore test. I called you, my gently rolling daughter's mother's mother. I called you like the woman standing at my back while I held the kite string on a pushy spring day, the diagonal shape so far above us I could only feel the jerk of the cord around my fingers, holding us t

Literature

the love affair

life slides under the door and I think about you not knowing how to love and touching a person's sleeping eyelids to change a dream, to lie here with you under a silent oak tree, the sunlight has begun to breathe and I am digging you a grave for your past and your future, I am holding you here, the trunk of my car open to let the sweet sound of a song rise into the air, it is rushing by too swiftly and I have premonitions or I just got lucky or everything means something nothing vanishes without a trace I hold despair in the palm of my hand and cannot dance without spilling it onto the floor, it seeps into the carpet but you

Literature

the letter that never arrived

as if grief had never hollowed out my heart, caverns echoing with the memory of a laugh, as if despair had never stolen my voice until love whispered in my ear and I knew what mattered, to speak of knowing: there are things you will decide to protect yourself from, pain you must never relive, and some you must live and live again, no matter the cost

Suggested Collections

Poetry

MysticSparkleWings on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/mysticsparklewings/art/Day-1-of-365-613953421MysticSparkleWings

Literature

most of us go quietly

with birth we are 'opened' - death we are 'shut' we cooperate - generally live 'flowingly' - but some exist to be fondly recalled - we suppose others are purposely popular - in nice clothes unless one invents 'the better mousetrap' receives The Nobel or whatever nice crap is amazingly famous - or infamous-ly known our one parting shot will be on our gravestone beneath it - we'll molder away for a while after keeping this mindful thru-out our last mile: the cosmic and random had brought us thus far we were never the focus - truly - never the star llp - dA - mar2022

Literature

poetry: spring of dreams

unfettered lies liaisons of beings fear of the truth my crystal tears maiden in white tufts of dandelions no fury, no agony close your eyes symphony of purity kaleidoscope of peace breeze embalming the body sweet, sweet dreams when I die play this song and think of me as I dance at the spring of dreams

Poetry

Literature

You

One tie Bonds two souls, Hate grows. Stronger, stronger, Stronger. I hate you. More than anything, Anything, I hate you. I long to see your body lie, Lifeless. I long for your eyes, To stare without seeing, Forever. I long for your blood to run, Like a river. To stain my hands with murder, Murder, murder, Death. Your death. As much of s blessing it would be, Death is not enough for me, And my Hate, My true pure Hate Remember… My only reason for your continued life, Is what is left of my sanity. But I will find a way to hurt you. To kill you. To kill, To kill. Our tie won’t last And then… My Hat

Literature

Lesbian

My thoughts wandered back into my fourth grade mind frame. She had beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes, And a perfectly white smile that reflected the sunlight like a mirror. She was a good teacher, mmmhmmm, good to look at, And I even knew it back then, Before I knew I was a lesbian. Roses are red, Violets are blue, Ranbows are red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple, And so am I! My thoughts wandered back into memories of Sam, my first girlfriend. She was shorter than I was, with wavy black curls, And with hazel eyes that seemed so enchanting, And she had beautiful pale white skin, mmmhmmm, lovely girl, And I knew it

Literature

Poetry

I found meaning In words so unspoken, And the places No eye catches. In the shade of behemoth movement, Watching a life Behind the borders of mind, Without a breath or word A reason to question the air above my head. How I breathe And am held down, And crawl through forests Still as the sky. Release burden, And listen to what was always there Between branches and channels, And breathe. Learn from each To know yourself. And the one's you would surrender it all for. Continue with that emblem To reaches Out of corners. Make the road your own. Forget each curve And listen in silence. There we fi

Poetry

Literature

On self-love

Maybe who she really loves, is the name of the boy she thinks of, while she lines her chatoyant eyes with charcoal maybe the name she really needs to think of, is her own.

Literature

Unaware

When you are two and five and ten you are unaware –– of the cactus in the windowsill, how, fragile, each quill bends and breaks and falls apart.–– Twelve years later, on a Tuesday, you dream about a boy who bumps his head on an iron slate and you wake in a cold sweat. You are twelve when you are always bumping shoulders. Twenty-two years of Thursday. There is nothing at all. And you wonder (and you wonder why) each time you wake. The cactus in the window bleeds with you when you bump it. No one ever mentioned frightened things bite. So you have always been unaware.

Literature

ripples on a blank shore (#15)

in rainbows with a petrichor veil; you've caught my breath in palms covered in dandelions' dust, my longing, an uncovered explosion of drafts hidden from the both of us. but i reach out, knowing wind-chime silence is a possibility as it has always been; knowing the doldrums of my harrowing echoes could be the only reality i'm pressed against, but i'm more than willing to risk my heart and expose it to the weight of sorrow if there's a sliver of a shot that we can be together. suspended in the contingency of the unknown, i hope your wrung hands red with distortion & blue with disappearance, make your way back to the greying soles of my

inner dialogue

adalaine

Published: May 28, 2010

187 Views

Description

_{Naoshima, Japan}

Image size

469x650px 154.18 KB

Make

OLYMPUS OPTICAL CO.,LTD

Model

C740UZ

Shutter Speed

10/10000 second

Aperture

F/5.0

Focal Length

8 mm

ISO Speed

Date Taken

Nov 30, 1999, 12:00:00 AM

Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License

Comments4

Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In

Poisonedkitty

May 28, 2010

Cool. Kind of moody, I like it.

DeviantArt - Homepage

DeviantArt Facebook DeviantArt X DeviantArt Instagram

About Contact Core Membership DeviantArt Protect

Developers Advertise Terms of Service Etiquette

Careers Privacy Policy Copyright Policy Help and FAQ

Watch Team and join our Community Group for the latest updates and activities.

Join Community