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About Varied / Hobbyist AnnaFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 3 Years
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i incubate acceptance for one trimester.
When it comes, it is quiet and forgetful of luster.

We greet it with a mouthful of sedatives,
seat it with compliments on its additive pigment,
and with other words flatter than empty flattery
we sell the sole remnants of a pregnancy
feverishly ochre.

And though the air says this is acceptable malady,
i choke on Despair like a nonsmoker.

Pollutant, It curls from telephone receiver,
from familiar comments on an assumed future over
sugar-rimmed glasses clinking vacuous approval;
i’m chastened by the taste so embraced by the locals.

They disdain the bold shouldered and say roll over,
roll “closure” in this paper skin, light It up, and breathe It in. Slower.
Release Hope’s chokehold and let the civil disease put you at ease.
Don’t be bothered by the odor.

Just before i am smothered, i and their venture sputter.
additive: (adj, technical) of or relating to the reproduction of colors by the superimposition of primary colors

ochre: a natural earth pigment, ranging in color from light yellow to brownish red
    (ochre is/was often used in makeup/body painting, most notably by the women of the Himba ethnic group in Namibia, who mix the pigment with animal fat to achieve a reddish skin color)
    see here […]

tussive: (medicine) relating to coughing

vacuous: mindless, empty
The leftover taste is unexpectedly blue.
The juniper traced it into my veins like a stamp or a stain of things thought through,
or something equally untrue.

My .08 sings rhythm and blues late into the hours, Interchangeable You.
(I grow cold outside the notion of his valuable use; I blame this on youth,
and not on any criminally negligible tumbler of truth.)

But these remnants of blue are brighter than the juniper berries that bloom
in bunches behind my ears with the permanence of bruises. Feel it deeper here,
and with a fresher, less green intimacy than what gin and tonic committed to memory.

But these remnants of blue burn lower, more slowly
than my quixotic concept of love, ill-conceived in absence of desire and in a pleased
immaturity that playacts well with only those who speak quickly.

This perennial blue rooted fast in my feet, I no longer stand between empty and emptied.
I'll let instinct carry me through amity's frightening new anatomy
and hope that next time the blue will be expecting me.
Gin and Tonic
To prepare: add 2 oz gin to a chilled tumbler. stir in ice cubes and top with tonic water. (lime or lemon optional) 

here's Billie Holiday explaining my Gershwin reference in a nice and sultry way:…

quixotic: exceedingly idealistic, unrealistic and impractical
A sinkhole of foreverplay declared its own futility,
maybe in quiet reference to the sheer superfluity
of twin fertilities, her body and mine
(a subconscious breach, my body in mind).
In time i am drained of my fermented fire: my evenings expire,
having been atomized into prepositions to propositions.
Former selves surmised i'm made for this kind of faithless fission,
volitional hands deft with the slickness to

shatter that supposition:

i could never love like this,
shoved into casualty by this sickness
wearing my likeness like i really like this,
stripped of stomach lining and scraping off clothes.

i'm nose to nose with a displeasure coined
from the warped loins of what I've claimed to know.
meretricious: whorish, superficially appealing
he dared me to take a hit half as hard as i'd hit him.
it'd been a year though, and i couldn't remember anything,
like how it felt to be cast aside, or how my fingers felt inside his pride.
i'm blaming it on time, but

it could just be the medicine.

Stability took off faster than i
could take off my body, but he said
"dear, slip out of your skin,
into something a bit less
daunting." that was a month ago, though,
and it's been minutes since then.

Now his mouth's a curtain on our twin stages
of denial.

His teeth are a fucking turnstile:
i can't win. Meanwhile,
i'll turn his lost clothes in for men who share his
same name,
i'll wash his spit off of my neck with last year's
same shame.

i knew i'd be replacing his spoor on my skin
with places i know that he has never been,
but still the good samaritan
pushed me against his bedroom door. and

i'd thought he wasn't sleeping with
choking on their artichoke hearts
Sometimes i want to choke on all the poems i will never show you.

No matter how many times your laugh makes me want to touch you,
i can smell the human on your breath and feel the tension in my bottleneck
from all the nights i've pretended to have something half as beautiful as you.

This summer i'm making roadkill of all the poems i've written for you
on the highway stretching my second string heartstrings across the midwest
until i've got nothing less than a desire and inability to sing.

[i'm beginning to think being human means holding doors open
for people you know are not going to come.]
Still my body's twirling around my overzealous abdomen and
i've got to learn how to keep it to myself.

Still i'm sick and picking this fiery fruit of a sun from joyless skies to
warm my downtrodden insides because your eyes are my photokeratitis
and now i'm blind
and patient
and kind.
Peel me,
see if there's anything you want in my pink and spastic underbelly.
Love Poem No. 140.5
quite old

photokeratitis: a painful eye condition caused by exposure of insufficiently protected eyes to UV rays. Photokeratitis is akin to a sunburn of the cornea and conjunctiva, and is not usually noticed until several hours after exposure. Symptoms include increased tears and a feeling of pain, likened to having sand in the eyes.


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AntoinetteGiulia's Profile Picture
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
Welcome to my page! if you have any spare feedback, I'd love to have it. I study classical singing, draw, write [words, music], play piano, and busk with my accordion, Barnabas.

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TheDagmar Featured By Owner Aug 3, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
!! Heart Clap Love :happybounce: 
SuddenlyAutumn Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2014
thank you so much for the watch :heart:
UnspecifiedUnknown Featured By Owner Jun 14, 2014   Writer
missing you and your words. this place is quiet without your static :rose:
AntoinetteGiulia Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
silence?? I won't stand for it. Thanks to you for the encouragement.
Ashhart Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Happy Bday to you! Happy Bday to you! Happy Bday dear Anna! Happy Bday to you!
UnspecifiedUnknown Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2013   Writer
thanks for the love chicka :heart: 
AntoinetteGiulia Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Right back atcha:]
oaklungs Featured By Owner Sep 1, 2013
thank you for the favourite and the watch :tighthug:
psithurisms Featured By Owner Aug 15, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
thank you so much for watching!
definitely returning the watch <333
AntoinetteGiulia Featured By Owner Aug 15, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
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