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Ephesians 2:10 :iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 1 0 xoxo :iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 8 4
Literature
on being invisible
clean up
clean up
clean everything you touch,
don't let anyone know
you were there.
don't let anyone know
you exist.
fade into the background.
go on.
fade.
fade faster.
no one wants to see you.
no one wants ... you.
be smaller.
occupy less space.
less.
LESS.
no one wants to see you.
no one wants you.
don't speak.
don't you dare speak.
no one wants to hear you.
no one wants you.
no one likes you.
no one cares.
you don't deserve
any space
any love
any time.
you are worthless.
you are useless.
you are nothing.
get out
get out
go.
be silent.
be invisible.
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 5 9
Once Upon a Springtime :iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 9 6
Literature
Aveline
  Aveline looked at him, wide-eyed with excitement and wriggling like a puppy preparing to prance after a ball. Her voice began in piano -- hushed, sweet, longing,
      "Let's go away. Far away. To a big city, with trains and taxis, and live in an old, brick building a million miles tall," but soon, she crescendoed. A beautiful, soaring mezzo forte.  
      "Let's drink crappy coffee and watch the sun rise from our decrepit fire escape.
      And late at night, when street and star light are the only ones around, let's climb as high as we can and dance on the rooftop til we meet morning again.
      Let's live like peasants while our souls feast like kings.
      Let's go far away."
  But the last phrase was more of a sigh, a breath let out as she drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face and a dream in her heart. He kissed her, then lay listening to the steady rhythm in her chest.
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 2 2
IsaidYES :iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 3 21
Literature
one of those days ........
she knew where she was
before she even opened her eyes.
it was the smell
that gave it away.
the smell of
too much clean.
clean for the sake
of diminishing the
scent of death and disease.
it made her sick.
she wretched
and she writhed
as the smell
consumed her.
before she'd even
opened her eyes,
she knew what she would see.
white.
white.
everywhere.
bored nurses
and sickness
all around.
but worst of all,
all those sad eyes.
sad eyes of those
visiting their loved ones.
sad eyes of those
losing their loved ones
slowly, steadily,
but you can see
that they know
the end is all too near.
though,
perhaps what made her
saddest of all
was that his eyes wouldn't be among them.
he wouldn't be there.
he wouldn't be there
when she opened her eyes.
he wouldn't be there
when she went "home."
he wouldn't be there
tomorrow
or the next day
or the day after that.
he wouldn't be there
ever again.
it wouldn't be
him + her forever.
she wouldn't get
to grow old and gray
with him by her side.
she wouldn
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 4 6
Literature
one of those days .......
when they found her,
she was lying on the floor
beside her bed.
his bed, she said.
it still smelled like him.
a little like his cologne,
a little like his shampoo,
a little like his skin,
and even a little like his feet.
and she couldn't sleep in it anymore.
[mostly, she couldn't sleep anymore.]
that poor girl.
she looks emaciated.
just gooseflesh and bones
in a pile on the floor.
hasn't she been eating?
no, I don't think so.
did you see the fridge?
sixteen lasagnas,
four tuna casseroles,
nine pies.
and plenty of mold
to go 'round.
she smells like booze.
let's get her to
the hospital.

the hospital.
white rooms
white walls
white floors
and all so
sterile.
the smell.
the hospital smell.
she hated that smell.
not the hospital.
oh please,
anything
but that.

she would have said
if she could have spoke
but she was too weak
to do anything
but
faint.
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 4 4
Literature
one of those days ......
three weeks
and thirteen lasagnas.
that's how long it had been.
thirteen damn lasagnas
and they were starting
to stink.
who the hell
expects me to eat
this much lasagna,
anyway?

three were from
that old lady
that lived a little ways
down the street
with about a million
and a half cats.
three.
one each week.
and number four
would be on its way
in another day
or two.
you'd think she'd get the hint
when I didn't give back
the dishes.

but as long as she didn't
leave her room,
she couldn't smell
the lasagnas.
and so all she had to do
was not move.
and that worked well
as she tried to remain
as numb as she possibly could.
because nothing could hurt
as long as she was
totally, utterly, completely
numb.
nothing could hurt
if she couldn't feel
anything to start.
but once in a while,
when her stomach was
particularly loud,
she'd venture down
for some cereal.
she'd run out of milk
weeks ago,
she realized.
but she didn't want
dry cereal.
so she put his stupid
special occasions
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 4 0
Literature
one of those days .....
these days,
sad feels a lot like tired.
or maybe
tired feels a lot like sad.

she wasn't really sure.
maybe they'd always
been sort of the same
and she was just
too happy to notice.
she used to be happy,
it's true.
she used to smile
for no reason.
she'd laugh all the time, too.
but nothing was the same
with him gone.
there was just this emptiness.
a never-ending
never-changing
emptiness.
and it just kept getting
b i g g e r.
like a blackhole
formed in her chest.
and it just kept getting
b   i   g   g   e   r.
it just kept sucking in
more of her heart.
happiness is not
the absence of sadness.
but sadness,
most certainly,
is the absence of happiness.
to her, being sad
meant being absolutely unable
to find any ounce of happy.
worse than
rock bottom.
to be at the bottom
of the ocean,
unable to see the sun.
unable to find the light.
hopeless.
no way out.
maybe it'd be better
to just
drown.
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 7 2
Literature
one of those days ....
the funeral,
just like everything else,
was pointless.
she went.
she sat.
she didn't cry, because
she couldn't cry.
not in front
of all those people.
and so she sat.
and she sat.
and she listened to people talk
about what a great guy he was.
but if he was so great,
how could he do this?

but she accepted
their condolences anyway.
because that's just what you do.
when a line of people
is telling you how terribly sorry they are
and that it was so horribly unfair
that he had been taken
so so soon.
[she wanted so desperately
to tell them. to tell someone.
tell them that he hadn't
been taken.
he took himself.
but she couldn't.
so she didn't.]
everything passed
in a blur that day.
the flowers,
the tears,
all of it
was consumed
by the dull ache
in her chest.
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 4 4
Literature
one of those days...
the day of the funeral,
she dressed in all black,
as widows tend to do.
it was fitting.
black, that is.
black, the colour of her mood.
black, the colour of the clouds.
black, the colour of the abyss
that she couldn't help
but stare into.
someone -- she couldn't remember who --
was coming to get her.
someone that didn't think
she should be driving.
and hell, maybe they were right.
maybe she shouldn't drive,
maybe she couldn't drive,
just like she couldn't eat
all of those lasagnas.
there were eight now.
knock knock,
came a voice from the hallway.
his brother.
oh. right.
hi. are you ready?
he asked.
not really.
she replied.
me neither.
she used to hate it
that he'd given his brother a key.
he'd show up unannounced,
mostly because he liked
to scare her.
and she would scold him,
and her husband would laugh
and laugh and laugh
while she pouted.
but then he would come up behind her,
and wrap his arms 'round her waist
and kiss her cheek
and she would make
her pouti
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 4 3
Literature
bird
I want to be a bird --
to jump from the highest of heights
and soar
soar forever --
as far as the eye can see.
to be one with the sky,
to feel the breeze,
to smell the breeze,
to be the breeze.
I want to be a bird
and soar
forever.
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 3 4
Literature
letters to a lost love
she was so scared,
that day she left.
but she fought it with all her heart.
believed it'd all be okay.
he said he'd write her,
each and every day if she liked.
and he could see,
by the way her eyes sparkled
and the smile that unconsciously
flashed across her lips,
that she liked the sound of that.
she liked it very much.
and he said that even though
they'd be miles apart,
their hearts would never
be far at all; he said
it would all be okay
but days turned to weeks
and she wrote to him.
you'd see her sometimes,
first thing in the morning
out mailing her letter
before the trucks came to collect them.
sometimes she went
before the sun was even up.
and every day, there she was,
new letter in hand.
but he never wrote her back.
not once.
oh, she'd never say it,
even if you asked.
but you could tell.
there was a heart-wrenching sadness
behind her sweet smile
and quiet demeanor.
she used to check her mailbox every day.
sometimes twice -- even thrice --
but each time, came away empty-handed.
ea
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 8 11
Literature
how dare you
how dare you
how dare you stare right through me,
like I'm not even there.
and you toss your stupid hair
and you laugh, and you laugh.
you laugh that obnoxious laugh.
the laugh that says,
I'm better than you.
but all I hear is,
I'm a horse.
you are fake.
all you are is a mask.
I see through your smiles
to the beast below.
and I hate you.
I despise you.
I loathe you.
[and I can tell
you feel the same]
[I have done nothing
to you. nothing to earn
your hatred.]
[get out. get out
of my life. get out
of my face.]
[leave.]
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 4 3
Literature
one of those days..
the weatherman said
it was going to be sunny that day.
sunny and warm.
but it didn't matter anyway,
because she'd forgotten how to feel warm.
maybe, when he died, he took
all of the warmth in the world
with him.
maybe everyone else
was just pretending
to feel warm.
pretending, because the alternative
was ending up like her.
in bed. half-dead. trapped in her head.
alone.
it rained that day.
as if the sky knew there was no point in sunshine.
or maybe, it just wanted
to make the weatherman a liar.
but none of that mattered.
nothing mattered to her anymore.
she was so far past caring.
how could he?
how could he just go and die like that?
he knew what that would do to me.
that bastard.
why did he go?
why would he go?
he knew I didn't mean what I said.
why did he leave me here like this?
it's not fair.
it's not fair. it's not fair. it's not fair.
it's not fair.
it's just not.
I don't want to breathe anymore.
or think. or feel. or anything.
I just want to stop.
just like him.
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom
:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:penguinflavoureddoom 4 0

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Activity


Life has been pretty crazy these last several months. I finished up my second year of university in the spring, have been working at my local library, and have been planning my wedding. Wedding planning is crazy, and now I definitely understand why people hire wedding planners (though, I don't understand why people become wedding planners).

But because obviously there wasn't enough chaos in my life lately, on Monday evening, my mom fell and broke her femur at work. I'm getting married on Saturday. Everything is chaotic, and whether or not my mom will be able to be there is still up in the air.

Sigh.

Life is hard.

deviantID

penguinflavoureddoom
Angel
Canada
You know, I had plenty to say here ... but that was before I clicked "Edit." So, instead of babbling on meaninglessly ...

I'm me. Don't like me? Then get off my page and deal with it.

Also, I just lost the game.
[[For those of you who have no idea what "the game" is ... from now on, you are playing the game. What's the game, you ask? It's simple. Whenever you think about the game, you lose it. When you lose the game, you must announce "I just lost the game." The only way to be "winning" is to not be thinking about it, so it's rather frustrating to some when they lose. I, however, am usually amused by losing, so feel free to make me lose.]]


Have a nice day! :)

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:iconaxe-lthesystem:
Axe-lTheSystem Featured By Owner May 16, 2016  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday!! :party:
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:iconoj-ok:
OJ-OK Featured By Owner Aug 21, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Thanks for the favs! :)
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:iconaxe-lthesystem:
Axe-lTheSystem Featured By Owner May 16, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday! :party:
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:iconoj-ok:
OJ-OK Featured By Owner Mar 26, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you for your favs! :)
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:iconfleur-de-irk:
Fleur-de-Irk Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2013
Thank you for +fav
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:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:
You're welcome :)
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:icondarker-kiss:
Darker-Kiss Featured By Owner Oct 7, 2013  Hobbyist
I lost the game.
And thank you for the :+fav:
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:iconpenguinflavoureddoom:
penguinflavoureddoom Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2013
I lost the game!

And you're very welcome! :)
Reply
:icondarker-kiss:
Darker-Kiss Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2013  Hobbyist
Shit. I lost the game again >_<
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:iconaytanavantgarde:
AytanAvantgarde Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2013  Professional Photographer
Thanks for the Llama...an important part of life
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