eating-glass

Elevator straight into my skull

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Loneliness by eating-glass, literature

Literature

Loneliness

Loneliness is a curse. It holds you down with its strong arms Constricting, asphyxiating. It squeezes every last teardrop out of your eyes. Loneliness is a metal ball chained to a fragile ankle. It toughens the heart and lets it grow cold. Loneliness has a friend called isolation. Together the pair prick tears into eyes, punch holes in hearts and break fingers that were never destined to hold a lover's hand.

Untitled II by eating-glass, literature

Literature

Untitled II

They met on a summer's day in the countryside. The day was hot and heavy, Long grass glistened like gold threads in the sun. She wore a veil made of fine lace and drank iced tea from a plastic bottle. Her skin smelled sweetly of coconuts He paid her fifty pence for a kiss. They ran through endless fields He plucked sweet lavender from the earth To adorn her hair. He wrote her love poems in French She knew not a word of it. Read them backwards and traced the lines with her fingers. The first night they slept together, the house was empty. All was quiet, save the fridge humming tunelessly in the kitchen. They snook through the

Date by eating-glass, literature

Literature

Date

You said you wanted to take me out. I went home and wiped my face clean Pallid and pure I became. I bathed for you; Shaved the confines of my body Pallid and pure I became. My eyes stung for you as I Washed soap suds through my hair, And pallid and pure I became. I stole for you as I I sprayed myself with my mother's expensive perfume And pallid and pure I became. For you I drowned my old self and came to you I came to you in my new face, my new clothes My new body - clean and pure and perfect Pallid and pure I had become

Stars by eating-glass, literature

First Love by eating-glass, literature

Baby by eating-glass, literature

Literature

Baby

Baby left his mother's rollerskates on the stairs, Watched her deteriorate He held his sister's hand. Baby put on his cap And his scarf Oh his pretty scarf. Baby smiled at his girl Told her how it was 'love', She wore armbands. Baby wore his jeans low So very low And had a laugh that infected the honeybees. Baby's in a coma He'll come back soon To remove the stings from the wasps

Untitled I by eating-glass, literature

Literature

Untitled I

The day I wore my barrette to school The streets were still and the air was cool. Tiny raindrops, the little gods adorned my hair The thinnest threads that stood to attention. I felt the overwhelming need to walk barefoot down the street, the clouds overhead casting shadows over my bare knees; tinged blue with softly pulsing veins. The cracks in pavements filled with water like weeping wounds on slashed wrists

He by eating-glass, literature

Literature

He

He appears as a reflection in the windows on the train Amidst the raindrops that run like olympic racers in streams His voice resonates in the churn of the engine Pounding like the sound of his once fetal heartbeat He's sitting in the pages of the abandoned book Left behind by a passenger, dog-eared on several pages. His breath travels on the wind with the salty sea air And the seagulls sing his name till they die with their miscarriages

Sickness by eating-glass, literature

Literature

Sickness

Hello sickness, I meet you again You are the same as the last time I saw you. A little bit more aggressive though, perhaps. You leave me weak and nauseous, leave bruises on my legs Like the devil's kisses On my greying skin. Under my eyes the skin it dies Leaves me with marks of purple streaked with yellow Some brown, that contrasts against the blue of my irises. Blue...but they are slowly turning grey like dying roses. My skull it aches My legs they are bowed. I can hardly walk, my fingers throb. My feet are swollen like ham hocks. You always leave me with such painful sickness. When you leave me I forget, but never forgive.

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Loneliness by eating-glass, literature

Literature

Loneliness

Untitled II by eating-glass, literature

Literature

Untitled II

Date by eating-glass, literature

Literature

Date

Stars by eating-glass, literature

First Love by eating-glass, literature

Baby by eating-glass, literature

Literature

Baby

Untitled I by eating-glass, literature

Literature

Untitled I

He by eating-glass, literature

Literature

He

Sickness by eating-glass, literature

Literature

Sickness

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Insanity by OceanSky13, literature

Literature

Insanity

This chamber feels unfamiliar, The vibe feels abductive. Anti- depressants, pumping through my veins. Men in white coats controlling me, toying with my insanity. Never letting me go, straping me down like a hostage. They have no emotion, no sense of self. They see me as insane and nothing else. Why do they want me under? there constant watch and control. I feel like something of me has been lost, but never knowing what went missing. Everyday is the same, pricks, jabbing and dominance, never letting me have one breath of peacefulness. My mind is lost in a continuous forest, that has no path leading to its end. Yet inside this

second place. by SoUpRRmaN, literature

Literature

second place.

00. i want to stay awake in your arms and let you stroke my hair from my face to kiss my temples and i want to go on long walks where all you're holding is my pinky and you squeeze it three times every few minutes, just to remind me it's there. but then i remember she's the one sleeping under your shadow and she likes kissing lips and you're the one carrying her across the sidewalk when she passes out and pulls on your sleeve to make sure you won't leave. maybe i'm just second place and maybe that isn't enough. 01. i want to count the stars with you and let you nuzzle me under the milky way with hands so tenderly touching and i want to

artificial facality. by SoUpRRmaN, literature

Literature

artificial facality.

my name is lissa spelled with two s's and a heart above the i and my eyes are milky blue oceans with sharp edges and i'm drowning the one sprinkle of brown i inherited from my mum in my ocean. [i think the fact that something inside of me is sinking is beautiful. is that a bad thing?] my skin is ivory colored and fragile and my nose is freckled with the sun's foot marks and i have broken blood vessels in all the places you kissed me and you can hide yourself in the purple shadows under my eyes and i have 103 moles. i counted. my fingers aren't double jointed and i don't have a hitchhike thumb, but i can crack them and make chalk on

About eating-glass

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

June 1
Ireland
Deviant for 12 years
She / Her

Badges

My Bio

I''m Emma and I'm a bad poet and aspiring writer living in the suburbs of the dark hole you probably know of as Dublin.

Tumblr: www.tragedyineden.tumblr.com <--- all literature.
www.opium-kisses.tumblr.com <--- personal.
Flickr: www.flickr.com/photos/_emmah_

Favourite Visual Artist

Mark Ryden

Favourite Movies

Candy, The Virgin Suicides, American Beauty, The Dreamers, Heathers, Thirteen, The Basketball Diaries, Girl, Interrupted, Factory Girl, Breakfast at Tiffany's

Favourite TV Shows

Skins, Misfits and any cheesy reality shows

Favourite Books

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden, The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy, Just Kids by Patti Smith, The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides, The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky,

Favourite Writers

Sylvia Plath, Jeffrey Eugenides, Oscar Wilde, Rupert Brooke, Arthur Rimbaud,

Tools of the Trade

Black pen and notebook

Other Interests

Reading, music, photography, drawing

Posts

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eating-glass

Jul 20, 2012

french diary

0 min read

 Entry no.1 Having a shower on a moving ship is the most surreal thing. Just the slow steady shaking under your feet, a false dizziness, the way your body twists in the opposite direction of the soap dispenser you are trying to reach. Flourescent light burning your eyes, the hot water stinging your flesh. Feeling like cattle.                                           Outside the the sea sloshes against the sides of the ship; grey and menacing. A shroud of fog and ice cold water that hugs this great vessel like a child. Like the most mediocre of watercolour paintings, the sea and sky blend into one sad whitewashed canvas, soon to be drenched

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eating-glass

Jul 20, 2012

last february

0 min read

Coming back from Donegal has put me in a deepening depression. The once ice green fields have been replaced by grey roads, rusting fences and pathways splattered with bird shit. I am in a sleepy haze, unable and uncaring to do anything. Heat pours from my electric radiator, enhancing the sweet scent of rose flowers in orange and yellow.  Suki licks herself contently in her basket, cosy on her baby blanket; blue with stars. 2:35pm. Feels like 11pm. So tired, so sleepy, weak limbs and a melancholy disposition. Looking forward to a bath tonight but not the icy coldness of the house. Broken boiler. Today is Valentine's day and all is quiet save f

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eating-glass

Jul 20, 2012

donegal

0 min read

we will go on the bus together; passing fields of darkened gold, squirming in our seats as we wait for the driver to pull up at a petrol station where we will be glad to use public toilets. we will step out into the cold and then warm our hands on rusted metal radiators under the sinks. i will watch as you stare at yourself in the mirror, reapply your eyeliner or light up a cheeky cigarette. i will wish i was you - with your dark red hair and smokey eyes, your jacket with all the safety pins in the world.  the way you walk, and laugh, and wear your hat titled to one side. ---- There is something truly beautiful about the deep countryside in