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If you look into my mind
Leave everything else behind
Leave all logic and all learning
You will find that all is burning
If you wake up late at night
Walk out where there is no light
You will see without discerning
All around you things are burning
If you don't like what you see
Walk outside under a tree
Take a match if you are yearning
Soon you'll find the tree is burning
If you learn to like the flame
Then you will know who to blame
Deep inside my brain is churning
Nothing can stop me from burning
If you find you can't get free
You will end up just like me
Because when the world stops turning
Everything will soon be burning
I'll always be the dust that collects
Upon the photoframes of the past
The emptiness that fills the gaps
The void that never lasts
I'll take every little piece away
Sweep myself into the night
If it means the cobwebs will fade to black
If it means you'll be alright
I'll take my particles from your flesh
Where they've rested far too long
I'll tear down all the photgraphs
I'll record over all our songs
I'll delete every message from your phone
The midnight notes to just say 'hi'
I'll take my name out of your diary
Give you back the tears you cried
I'll send you in an envelope
A few words that we once shared
Perhaps a little memory
Of the one night you showed you cared
But then I'll take back every little thing
That reminds you of what used to be
Rewrite every lyric written
If it means you'll forget me
But since things never went as planned
Things never were seen through
I'll soak paper sheets in my tears
I'll tell this note pad 'I love you'
You mean everything to me
I don't want t
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More