citywings

lynabee gone

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Other Feathered Things by citywings, literature

Literature

Other Feathered Things

little bird. Little fragile feathery flustered thing. I have been waiting for you for all of my life. I have been buying birdseed and letting the bread go stale. I caught all the crickets, I gave away the cats. i have been waiting in this dark room with my hands cupped like a supplicant to dust. little bird I try not to know that you will not live long because you will have many friends and maybe you will never hurt anyone. your small talons will scratch my fingers, when you come, and i will rejoice. if I keep you in a cage you'll never find m

Less by citywings, literature

Literature

Less

there is a beast keeping time with my bloodstream. you are turning into someone else i don't want to look at. this is just the chemistry of organisms, how bonds break and break and break. i am looking for you in other people and i don't find you anywhere. there is a movie called Doubt where Meryl Streep shrieks that she thinks she was wrong. it which thinks i'm a timepiece smirks at my joints. for three days this fever. did i make you up? did i make you out to be more than you wanted? i must be rubber. you're glue. everyone stays with you. we all are outnumbered by insects and bacteria. in the long run it won't

It Was Bad For Awhile by citywings, literature

Literature

It Was Bad For Awhile

Who do you hold if i touch the break will it shatter like mourning or more like my heart(my heart!)-- taking this cup to kings and kings mouthfuls of ache to thorns from shrike, i know this part (this part)-- where nothing is wrong, my dear, my dear, but nothing seems quite to go right, we gambol and play in fields where they lay but no one has anything gentle to say-- I touch your hand and you give me mine back and onwards you go and you never look back.

But No Cigar by citywings, literature

Literature

But No Cigar

The black x's are on the back of my hands as they should be. The house is empty, the television a little too loud. You and your friend were here half an hour ago. The girl on the late-night commercial wants me to have phone sex with strangers, but I only go on cheap dates. I think, you will never say whether or not you like me. I think I just want to be the taste in someone else's mouth. I just want to be someone else's problem. Just for awhile. But there are only so many words in this language, and half of them "yes," and every "yes" is just "no" being polite. And I don't want to want anymore, because you won't lie but t

why by citywings, literature

Literature

why

there is not enough god in the world to forgive you. yes, i've seen your charts, graphs, facts and figures, the ones that say i'm a liar for saying that. but i am not lying. there is not god enough for you. and there is nothing good enough for you either, is there, go straighten your bangs, i guess, and yell at me in the morning. such pillow talk we use. darling. dearest. if god is alive he is shriveled like that piece of you i'm good enough for. there isn't god enough for you nor devil enough for me to hold onto, no pressure of good or of evil, it is like being in a vacuum, only our own choices to stare us in the face and no be

of course you know by citywings, literature

Not Without Pain by citywings, literature

What I Should Have Known by citywings, literature

Home by citywings, literature

Literature

Home

My heart is an open ocean. There are ships in it. And drowning sailors, and fish, and manatees, and pieces of broken wood. Most people stare towards California for their beaches and half-dressed women, but I am moving east over the land to where the sun rises and the sun rises and the sun rises. My heart is forgetting its "r"s and having faith in environmentalism and gay marriage. Where my heart is are rocks and tide pools and commerce and the sun is a hard white stone * that says severe thunderstorm warning, tells those outside to find shelter from penny-sized hail, y'all. It is ninety degrees, one hundred percent humidity

Everything Happens by citywings, literature

Literature

Everything Happens

The way you say goodbye and go, between wave upon wave of endless transience and I am left, maybe not here, still somehow picking up pieces, shards in my palms, but it is known I can’t put them together, not horse nor horseman nor egg. And our fingers, touching the keyboard, not making music, just fucking things up, you’re my head, you’re my head, you’re my headache. We have wandered into this thing, that lies between us like snakeskin, somehow delicate and heavy and thick—you squeeze yourself into the space I am clawing the roots of, to kill it and make it change. We have wandered the basement of

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Other Feathered Things by citywings, literature

Literature

Other Feathered Things

Less by citywings, literature

Literature

Less

It Was Bad For Awhile by citywings, literature

Literature

It Was Bad For Awhile

But No Cigar by citywings, literature

Literature

But No Cigar

why by citywings, literature

Literature

why

of course you know by citywings, literature

What I Should Have Known by citywings, literature

Home by citywings, literature

Literature

Home

Everything Happens by citywings, literature

Literature

Everything Happens

YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE by citywings, literature

Literature

YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE

It is ridiculous how lazy I am getting about your letter. Imagine if my mail box were Alaska and I were a governor there, quitting to mount a campaign to ruin everyone’s lives. Imagine if I were making bizarre political metaphors, despite strict instructions to stop. Imagine that lately my hair is messy and my family vacation is in a week and everything seems stupid and worthless. Though I would quite like to send you a letter, because I like hearing from you, and I like thinking you like hearing from me, imagine that my head is in the clouds and my feet are in the ocean and my hands are walking away (I’m hard

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SEROQUEL by Kublakhan27, literature

Literature

SEROQUEL

It's that kind of tired where yawns snuggle up beneath your tongue and sleep through dependency while your cheekbones seize the opportunity to stretch your face and take your eye balls down with them and like a mood swing make you feel nonchalantly awake then as if on liberated slinkys jack up and take your mouth with them red-handing those yawns you so terribly depend on to shut out the lights on your stubborn insomniac ball of a brain

Bullied Into Suicide by fllnthblnk, literature

Literature

Bullied Into Suicide

The boy fits his smalls hands around the barbell, its knurled crosshatch pattern rough along his palms. His arms are white and wiry, but his spotting partner says he'll bulk up if he keeps at it, adding more to each side, another five pounds or so, locking the plates in with the strangleholds of both collars. The boy lifts, the fire in his chest gravitating through his arms, each arm working against the gravity of each rep. The barbell clatters back onto the pins and the spotter adds more weight, says to give him another set, says he'll look like him--all muscle like a deity--if he learns persistence, the heady art of dedicat

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About citywings

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Artist

United States
Deviant for 16 years
She / Her

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My Bio

objects in mirror are closer than they appear.

Current Residence: in my head
Favourite genre of music: badass
Favourite style of art: surreal
Operating System: bionic
Personal Quote: shapeshifting happens.

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escape

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citywings

Oct 11, 2010

Devious Journal Entry

0 min read

I'm trying to come back again. Again-again. College is weird. Anyway, I've got over a thousand deviations to go to, so...I'm working on it. I think I missed this place.

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citywings

Aug 4, 2009

things i want to say on deviantart

0 min read

Hey kids. Thanks to everyone who added my poem "Far Away" to their favorites, and extra points to anyone who can give me a better title for it, because I'm bad at titling things. Like this journal. Cough. I'm still working on my 'zine, which will be called Fear Less. Currently I have about nine submissions from artists here on DA and an essay promised from one in particular, but I don't want to stop there--for one thing, a ten-page zine is lamesauce, and for another, I really, really want to get people in on this. So if you want to be in a zine, even if the distribution may be kind of shaky and possibly even nonexistent (I'm poor and hermit-

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citywings

Apr 12, 2009

vague request

0 min read

I've always wanted to make a zine.  One outside of the Internet, for the time being.  And I have the paper, and my artistic friend is coming to visit me for a few days.  So if any of you want to send me some artwork or writing or pretty much anything to put in this zine that we may or may not actually end up making (but that I will do someday, FOR REALS), I would probably be...really obnoxiously grateful.  I will of course put it in however you want me to, and say whatever you want me to say about it.  And whenever I actually do this, I'll take pictures or something and put them on DA, and if you want some I could probably make copies?...I du