april feature

I remember a long time ago
I said I would write more reviews on people,
and here I go-

anobrain
She's graced with such a gentle writing style yet a fierce sense of diction that has me drunk off her words. She is not just a writer of poetry but this writer can take in every word, chew them, spit them out, and knit together a (dreamily) written story squeezed between fine lines, stanzas. Her gallery is full of so many lovely gems and tender reads, of creative love stories and a rather minimal-style that will surely tug at your heartstrings.
II don't want to cling onto you like the stars cling onto the sky, grabbing at the absence all around them until they finally implode. I don't want to love you like the sea loves the shore, or like the flowers love the sun. I don't want to wrap my arms around you whilst you're limp in my grip. I don't want to smile when your bottom lip is quivering and your eyes are watering.
What I want is you. I just want you and only you, and I'm not too bothered about you in the physical sense of the term, but if you're offering me your body, I'll take it. Because even when you're as naked as you can metaphorically be, even when you're stripped down and spread out and I can see all your flaws right there in front of me, I love you. Even when we're in the dark and I can hear your voice right there next to me, you are all I want. In every kind of way. I want you in not five senses, but six. I want you.
If there were words enough to say what I'm feeling then I'd say them all but I have a dictionary and step outside the solar systemmoon in her eyes as she slips on her space boots 
- and i, i am halfway to Orion
there are constellations stitched into my irises
there are asteroid belts twisting 'round my legs
dust in the spaces between her fingers 
and her helmet is shining in the too close sun
i can feel the cold on my neck
i can feel the all consuming space touch me
(touch me like gentle fingertips
on a sunday afternoon
when you were knitting mittens from the clouds)
oh, darling
i passed by a supernova just this morning 
reminded me of your soul
rings on saturn are child's play
teething rings, if you will
moon in her eyes as she slips off her space boots
- i think she'd rather stay here  apologetic blood"hold still," you said and i
turned my head and shut my eyes.
i didn't want to feel your ice
fingers and your bitten down nails
playing with my insides (at least
i convinced myself i didn't, anyway.
intimacy and lust are too hard to
deal with at the same time.)
i trusted you - my hope mixed
with the blood streaming through
the veins in my eyelids, my hope that
was carved like ancient sacrifice and
an old ritual in my twig thin bones, and you
broke it. 
it wasn't a normal stab, not a dull
ache surrounded by seeping dark red 
liquid, not the kind of stab that makes 
you writhe and watch your sorry 17 years
on earth ticking in front of your eyes
like a time bomb
no - a stab that makes you see red, 
a stab that feels as small as an atom
but erupts like the vibrations of the
tectonic plates shifting, and you just
kept going.
i didn't look, not once, i wasn't afraid
of the gore but what if i saw you
enjoying causing me so much pain? instead
i remembered autumn

cherrier
This deviant's gallery is full of an assortment of intricate designs and patterns and interesting concepts. Highly conceptual and delicate skill, cherrier's gallery of full of drawings with an imagination that literally drips off the page and beyond fascinating.


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