brokenfragilethings

814 Watchers139 Deviations

21.7K

Pageviews

Collections

words can roar #2 / may 2020

Jun 1, 2020

Hi all, We sure are working through this, aren't we? I believe this literature feature will run once a month. I am aiming to post between the 1st and 7th. I'm going to be pulling from my favorites I found during the previous month, so this edition is highlighting May 2020. The idea of this feature is to bring together the community through the power of our voices in literature. Eclipse is a subject I don't even feel like addressing, because of the great amount of dissonances and discord it's created in the community. I think at this point the conflict over it is more stressful to me now than the actual change of the website. But I'm trying to plough through. I really don't do well with conflict - I don't mind discussing both sides of the issue of Eclipse, but please keep things civil and kind. "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar." It's an incredibly true saying. If we plan on staying here, we should focus more on what we can do instead of complaining. I have already

All

885 deviations

Literature

I don't know how to write about God

I spent twenty minutes arranging the wine, bread, and tablecloth, and another hour in the garden picking flowers, all for Jesus. I felt the room breathing with its own life before I ever even sat down on the couch. Last year I spilled the wine, this time the bread falls off the plate, cracking on the floor, Christ's broken body - I'm so imperfect, small, a wailing babe. I want to promise I'll be good for the rest of my life, but that is impractical. You and I know better. You know there's too much settled dust on this body, just as there was on the fine porcelain dishes mother pulled from the china cabinet. My footprints are muddy,

Featured

377 deviations

words can roar #2 / may 2020

Jun 1, 2020

kindness

61 deviations

artwork

266 deviations

photography

111 deviations

misc

2 deviations

I don't know how to write about God by Lionnfart, literature

Literature

I don't know how to write about God

Banlaoch by Nullibicity, literature

Literature

Banlaoch

I had a dream a mountain told me what a woman was, and I stood at her base while she whispered of love. She pointed up at the sun. "This does not think it is much. See, you have that in common... you must accept you are enough. Though frequently reserved, you should still remember that love freely given is love that is treasured - is love that returns." The valley winds shook my ribs. I was aware of empty, how to criticize its depth, when her gentle voice steeled: "Do not criticize what manages growth in the soil of a field you've neglected to sow. Life is about experience and you, in your mind's view, are what you produce." The dream b

to live on pluto by blanketings, literature

Literature

to live on pluto

i want to live on pluto and inherit from him the world’s uncertainty: live life in a year’s meager fraction, make snow cones that never melt, become nearly weightless and one-third ice. gracelessly i glide on patches of ice, hopskotching the moons of pluto and drifting into nothing, weightless, contemplating distant blues with such uncertainty my blood refuses to melt; my fingers twitch in fractions. my bones, too, fraction and my eyelashes get tipped with ice; numb lips whisper “melt,” but he refuses: pluto, with no uncertainty, makes my head weightless. my whole life i’ve wanted to be weightless, to stop be

orange is such an ugly color by blanketings, literature

Literature

orange is such an ugly color

there’s something to be said for himalayan salt lamps; they won’t inject your bedroom’s oxygen with positive ions but they’ll make your comforter seem like a seance’s start: a seance where the ghost is a four year old who hates surprises sobbing amidst smiles and slices of birthday cake makes sense. feelin’ blue? wait for a colder sun to rise by flicking on your own miniature sunset; bob ross would call the subsequent acrylic apparitions on your face a beautiful brown but he hasn’t seen that same hue in the bottle of bottom-shelf bourbon (the one your roommate picked up for you yesterda

if you add limeade it's technically a whiskey sour by blanketings, literature

Literature

if you add limeade it's technically a whiskey sour

i lied about the exorcism-- that neon ghost still haunts my phone and though all of us are silent you sing my tinnitus till the storms get back. you don't know it's been raining all week because i never told you; i'm so scared of spirits and spiders and weathering small-talk-- your sun and my curtain-clouded bedroom. in a sunpatch on your floor, i dreamt of leaping off the grid and landing back in lake hylia a hero; now i only dream of daytime drinks, a summer solitude as dull as the ends of my hair 'cause i can't even throw back my dad's ninety proof without the sun in my eyes so the truth is between zelda and zookeeping i've been seanc

keyser by hypnicjerks, literature

Literature

keyser

how many summers did you spend couched in west virginia? street smitten, sore legged pacing the fence of adolescent mess in mountain’s maw, raining angel’s ash, the absolute heat death of july forever finding homes in someone’s sister’s basement, curled in a messy bedroom, growing pains in your shins getting taller couldn’t relieve against grainy adult swim shock toons estrogenic mall musk and slurpee vomit mom going on and on about some lie you told, or didn’t as if you culled the children to the cellar and beat them before you were born, as if you were a songless canary in a coal mine collapsing do

2 3

38 Next