Friday Feature #5

who needs tomorrow?i.
A half party favor moon peers down at us
as we lie in the back of your car
with the hood down.
And I examine the silver scars
it left on my palms,
how the 8 o'clock sky
eats away at my flesh,
tearing off chunks of
my Aquarius paleness,
allowing you to see me
as the wishful thinker
that I am underneath
all this late summer sequin glamour.
ii.
Friend, I can't take back
those featherless afternoons
I spent in the library,
trying at any cost,
to catch a glimpse
of your sea foam irises;
clear green, almost grey.
I'm ashamed at how
pathetic I was back then
and I don't know
why you insist on
dredging up that
stuttering radio past,
if only to spite me;
make me think of
coffee mugs and
whipped cream
splatters on my shirt,
your hands tugging at
the cotton hem,
your voice whispering;
"It's okay..
Just lie down."
And maybe
I'm beating myself up
over nothing because
you're the one replaying
these images in my head;
warm sofas,
maroon pillowcases,
homework
strewn everywhere;
paper and pens
and te
who needs tomorrow?, by autumn-spirit is amazingly poignant with marvelous imagery, going from the past, it wraps up with the same remarkable question that has really made me think. You have to see this.


summergirl, by disrhythmic writes with melancholy in a dream-like manner that will amaze you for sure. She has a wonderful way with words that she seems to bend reality with her writing. Simply astounding!

dragonfly wingsi. There is an entire generation of humans who grew up learning how to be murderers,
learning how to wound creatures for an audience and a laugh, and oh
how they love to laugh, pigtailed executioners
and torturers of all that frail life
that could be contained in a quiet garden.
ii. They take spiders by their bellies and put them one each on two ends of a stick,
and they poke and prod and push until one decides to eat the other,
for there must be a duel, there must be a death, or there is no fun,
and the children will race off to find new things to hurt.
They take dragonflies by the wings and stick their jewel tails into electric sockets,
playing god in their pajamas, leaving peanut butter fingerprints
on the little pockets of heaven they find and fight over,
keeping the pretty pieces for their scrapbooks, like you could trap life
beneath scotch tape and label it between lines red-blue-red.
iii. Well maybe they know better, if you want to believe there's a muted brilliance
hidd
dragonfly wings, by neonsquiggle makes me feel all too human with a contrast between childish innocence and frightening adulthood. This has really left a lasting feeling even after I've read it. The truth hurts.

The Best Time to Plant a Treei've grown to a sapling from a seed
barely noticing a change in leaves
i've searched for the most powerful gust of wind
not the grey exhaust smoke fusing
with that which i exhale
almost stale
but making it clearer to see
each breath from my lungs
helping me visualise this proof of life
in the way i used to watch myself bleed
trying to figure out how this thing moves itself around
i've liked 'feminism' on facebook
i dig the way your body fits mine
i've read books
but there are more that i haven't
i'll say i just want to stop, to rest, to lie down
that i've done enough, surely, by now?
but the only language i speak is my own
which doesn't contain anywhere near enough words
to say half of what i feel i want to say
The Best Time to Plant a Tree, by nattrozanska shows a connection between people and trees, taking the "growing and changing" cliche to new heights that I have never looked to see before. Won't disappoint you.

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like love was the victim here., by empty-lungs writes about loving yourself before you love others. She writes with painful understanding and a deep message which has slowly found it's way to my own heart. Must read.

Icarus.(glass eyes,
cracked inside)
you are this scar,
you are the street i will never cross
i need you like a heart needs a beat
And i can't let you slip away.
because we shared life
when the fire within our seas
ran,
ran through our veins,
and when we danced
to the stars, celestial glory.
(lady terra,
she's just a flower grown wild.)
so when the lights fade away
into the dark
remember me, fallen angel
and
bring me the horizon
give me the sun
(i want his wings,
crimson
vermillion
and the taste of blood
oranges
slashed across the sky.)
for i am a sunken ship.
Icarus., by RoseScarlet is weaved tightly together all too perfectly. This is beautifully created and all too relatable. Take a peek.

Please check these deviants out and send them love! See you next Friday for the next Friday Feature! Oh, and please suggest pieces to me, I'd love to know what you think I should feature next!