Best of Followers Feature: Day 2...and pageviews.

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:new: Update: :new:

I didn't want to make an entire journal to this (especially since I want this feature journal to be up for a bit) but...I wanted to thank everyone who stopped by my page since...April 30th to get me to 39,000 pageviews. It means a lot :heart: You guys are incredible and I'm certain none of you give a shit BUT I'll thank you anyway :lmao: I don't know why you frequent my page but I appreciate it all the same. Much Love :love:


:heart: Hello all. This is Day 2 of of "Best of Followers" Feature. I gave it a few more days since the last one, but here is the second portion. It's a bit shorter than the first one because I wanted to just finish up my first page of followers evenly. I will start on page 2 for the next feature in this series. Give these amazing deviants some love mmmkay? 

Farand

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LiliWrites

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PoetryOD

FuzzyHoser

cality

Moon-spun mothsPerched in your throat,
it is like a prayer;
an exhalation
against your palms,
soft as a secret
in the womb.
          How weightless we are
          under the tender moon
          in this enchanted twilight.
PacificOctober, and the 
sky is on the ground again;
    boats on a small sea.
SwevenBudding teeth click 
shut; waken with me,
a vision of stars
upon your teeth,
    & thread your
dreams along the
backbones of children.
Be still, sleep-
er, for the pregnant moon
still
    swells
(in wonder.)
con espressionecon espressione.
I.
You were the only one who could play my ribcage like a pianist in concert. Your fingers found their home in the spaces between my ribs [fifth, sixth, seventh], and nestled against the soft curve of my violin-waist.
IV.
We should take it adagio, you said as we got lost in a tangle of freckled limbs that had seen too much August sunlight. OK, I breathed back, but of course we ignored that once the stars exploded above our heads.
V.
Two quavers of a crotchet (it was never two halves of a whole), we descended into bass clef and danced the line that was the F below middle C. Your fingers were mezzo piano on my skin as you led me towards that imperfect cadence.
We were more beautiful together than apart.
Splits lips upon starsMorning
                  splits
open, like orange-flesh
cradled
in a palm.
I tuck consonants between my
          lips/
draw moon-craters in my eyes; I make wishes
                          upon stars
that are too far away to realise and hope
that somehow things will
change. Yet
the sun is still a mere hole
                in the
                                    sky.

saltwaterlungs

these poisoned daysI. Camella
She arranges flowers at his roadside memorial
and promises never to forget him or the origami
frogs he made out of gum wrappers in home ec
because the newspapers don’t remember frogs.
They remember he was drunk now he’s dead
what a shame let’s move on next headline.
The burning headlights fly past like they’ve
forgotten him and the roses are a runway.
II. Tristan
He inhales the burning tobacco and exhales
to draw the melancholia outside of his chest,
but escaped ghosts are crowding the bathroom
and pressing him against the chipped blue tile.
The glowing florescents are peering too deeply
into his coffin body, and he’s afraid they’ll see
his corpse rotting in his wasteland of a temple.
He can’t remember the last time he called home
and didn’t make his mother weep; at least she cares.
III. Bridgette
She likes to run and run and run her pace
is the only thing that doesn’t ever feel broken.
The pat pat pat of her feet slappin
aubreyYou are a three-day lightning storm
that leaves only plastic bags and stray dogs
flitting through the river runway streets.
You are dark purple and blue cacophonies,
searing-white and shredded muscle tendrils,
and seams bursting from blistering electricity—
I am not afraid of you.
My father has whirling weatherveins too,
but my mother coaxed it to his irises and fingernails;
typhoon boy, you too will find your stormchaser.
She will have a flagpole straight spine and sunshine
clenched in her fists like crumpled dollar bills, and
more importantly, she will make you feel okay.
You deserve okay.
weedsshe complains about
weeds she
sows
Pop Rocksbeads of roman sweat and dust
lace the wind like meth into pop rocks—
feel the fizzlepop of history flamenco
across your justahuman tongue
and wonder why your professor never
lectured on the strawberry tang
of crusaders' sloshed blood.
jackal grinMy orange peel
lips split: the beams
are sun-steeped
chrysanthemum,
a deck of cards
sprawled across
nana’s worn porch,
and fingers weaving
through grass blades
when the light is
soft and warm.
(have you f
                 a
            l
                   l
                      e
               n
yet)

learningtobefree

you can find my heart in the Pacific Oceanon the night of salt and leftover secrets, i tell him about
the Pacific Ocean, how in Mexico, they say that it does not
retain memory.
you can walk to the edge and curl a million secrets
under your tongue and spill them all at once and
the water will drop them the second it picks them up.
he and i have never been fond of life jackets and the Pacific Ocean
is much too deep to swim in. if you look closely, you can see the
floating bodies of those who tried to cheat love but drowned in the process.
see, humans are not like the Pacific Ocean. try as we might,
we will never forget the taste of robust love or the way a smile
feels after a long day of bearing burdens.
listen, the Pacific Ocean breaks in waves.
all we hear nowadays is each other’s silence;
the water swallowed all of our words and forgot they existed.
he and i will go swimming, desperately searching for them.
within minutes, our bodies will become martyrs for a cause
we’ll never be able to remember.
my brother taught me about the sunI.
they say that one day, the sun will burst into
trillions of fragmented fires and sometimes,
i think science is the only way to describe
this phenomenon called love.
II.
the other night, my little brother told me i use
the word "love" immaturely. i guess he's not so
little anymore; the stubble and calluses have
taught him a thing or two about girls like me.
how we never look away from the sun, even if
it could explode any second. how our eyes stay
fixated upward because it's the only direction
they know. how we have calluses, too, but
we seldom learn our lesson.
III.
it is human nature to tether ourselves to everything
that tried to leave. missing is an ache that curls us
into knots and ropes are used to pull two objects
closer together but also to hang those same objects.
is it also human nature to not recognize the difference?
IV.
i have been taught that everything is objective, that there
is no algorithm for any of it but the sun will erupt and the
scientists have always relied on
looking for the moon "1 in 3 teens on the street will be
lured toward prostitution within
48 hours of leaving home.”

            -National Runaway Hotline
you’ve always kept your suitcase under the bed
and your baby teeth in the sock drawer. see, you
were saving them — the teeth, i mean — for the
day you finally learned to let go.
escape always tickles the underside of your decisions.
you’re the skinned knees type: bumpy elbows and
gapped teeth, more freckles than your father knows
how to play connect-the-dots with.
one Tuesday 3 years ago, the moon never showed
so you learned how to pack your suitcase and went
out looking for it. you stuffed your baby teeth into
your pocket and powdered your constellations pale.
a man in Moline, Illinois told you that baby teeth are
God’s way of showing us how to move on. God doesn’t
know how to abandon, so He makes us do it. maybe He
never flosses. maybe He wears dentures, too.
God is just s
my brother is poseidonmy brother once told me a little rain is good,
but you are a tsunami in the midst of flood season.

i twisted his mouth into a corkscrew to open a bottle of tears.
he laid out a wide bouquet of cut up draperies & snipped napkins.
we've always been fond of over-celebration.
my favorite cough syrup flavor is kerosene.
i'm not particularly fond of it
but the choke of its sour is all i've ever known.
it tastes as if a strong wind broke the levies on a church wall
and an entire country discovered what it means to let go.
loss is an inevitable pillar of love.
loss is an inevitable pillar of love.
loss is an inevitable pillar of love.

my brother's soft chant echoes
through my finger beds and
i am a flood.
there is a high tide whispering arms are armies
bolstering the wreckage.
my brother is the leader of a scattered search party.
i misplaced the map he drew to help me find myself.
a-positivemy father once told me that you can’t marry someone with your same blood type.
chances are your children would emerge with a myriad of deformities;
your DNA strands wouldn't coincide the way your souls would.
this hit me with the realization that maybe, in a time before this one,
someone foresaw the way we would look at each other and decided
we were a secret better kept hidden.
this morning was the first in a long time that i woke up feeling beautiful
without a boy convincing me so the night before. is this what freedom feels like?
heart spilling out of my chest and alveoli snapping into place.
this is untouched skin:
smooth and lightened, lotioned with a sense of confidence.
war-torn with wanton and longing for limbs no longer here.
is there a name for that two-in-the-morning feeling?
the way guts wrench themselves open and botanical gardens scream.
is this what capillaries do when no one is looking?
cry or maybe wonder if they will ever see light again.
there just might be an


The next portion will be up later this week, probably towards the end of it. Till next time :heart: 



© 2014 - 2024 Medoriko
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cality's avatar
I'm so sorry for the late reply, but thank you very much for the feature! :heart:

Congrats on the pageviews, too. :D :la: