50% off for a limited time!

Get Core

Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

Get Help and Send Feedback

literature

Addiction

Deviation Actions

WordOfChen

Published: May 8, 2012

5.1K Views

Literature Text

Addiction:

The lights are out and I'm feeling manic
My heart is thumping in a shivering panic.
It's like I'm hitting, my all time low;
How many more; do I have to go?

Hello, hello, can you hear me speak?
I'm afraid my voice is getting weak.
My screams and sounds are growing quiet;
I need those pills; I'm growing tired...

Without them I'm colourless, just an empty face
Oh no, oh no, I'm in a dirty place...
I don't know how and I don't know why;
But it's just so hard to say goodbye.

When you need a feeling, when you need a high;
It's really easy to tell the lie:
'I'm fine, I'm fine, it's just a trial!'
But you can't hear, your own denial...

"Hello, hello, how low will you go?"

-Chen Yuan Wen, 8th May 2012

More by WordOfChen

Literature

Invincible

I am a laborer of dreams and I'm building up a pyramid. The ghosts might try to kill me but I learned to always live with it. The fragile thoughts that draw you to the edge of your ill mind; Believe when I say that giving up would be a true crime. The only thing that you should do is plow ahead forward, No stepping back because I got your back and that's a foreword An introductory paragraph to what it means to me, when I have always told you that we are going to be:

Recommended Literature

Literature

Body Speak, Mouth Don't.

"I need a favour. You got a minute?" No. No I don't. My heart feels ripped out of my chest and trampled on too often. My ears open to screams in the morning. My eyes close crying every night. My mind always turns dreams into nightmares. My lungs contract too soon for me to catch my breath. My worries far outweigh my years. My brain feels overworked, overwrought, so tired. My stomach cramps every night and I curl up in pain. My knees weaken often but I'm still standing. My mouth goes dry and I can't speak. My hands dampen because I have too much to think about. My bones feel weaker than they ever have before. But I don't think it

Literature

Wish for Privacy

I live behind a locked door, And no one has the key. It has been years, maybe more Since someone talked to me. The solitude was nice at first, The quiet let me think. But soon it took a turn for worse— Now all I do is blink. So be careful, my dear friends, When you wish for privacy. Count to 5 when patience bends Or you'll end up just like me.

Literature

What's Not Being Said

I heard you sigh but at the time I didn't say a word; I saw you cry but didn't know your voice was so unheard. I felt you break but truly thought I shouldn't be around; For my own sake I should have fought to keep your feelings sound. Please, listen to what's not being said.

Suggested Collections

Poetry

Literature

Something Sinister

A ring around the rosy Let them laugh lightly Pocket full of posies Watch them sleep tightly Something with poison And pleasing to the eye Poppies to make them sleep And sleep until they die Something sinister is stirring Beneath the fragile skin A daisy for lost innocence Scarlet rose for my sin Not once have blossoms healed Not once have petals saved Something sinister is stirring There's lilies on my grave Something sinister is stirring Buried in the ground Dust to dust, and ashes, Ashes, we all fall down

Literature

Clipped Wings

It begins slowly As such works of veiled wickedness do So soft and gradual that the perpetrator himself does not even guess At the sheer nauseating extent of his control He starts with the foreplay of caressing words - Insidious whispers slithering across a moonlit pillow Forming a chain around the young girl’s mind Like the tender entwining of his fingers around her slender throat So white, swan-white, in the waning night As he suffocates her with his dominance And so it goes, night after night Day after brittle star-haunted day Manipulative words sliding into seashell ears, gently Tickling her psyche like the feathers of a

Literature

Poetry

random words on the page speak of broken dreams and pent-up rage spilling out ink from the pen burn it all start again

Poetry

Literature

my ask of the witches

not to be critical but in considering the state of our union the state of our world - why have you witches not yet unionized and become more fully engaged? has the time for your focus your concerted action not at long last arrived? we look to the past: slavery genocide the inquisition the black plague World Wars one and two and now - !!! all of which indicates despite multitudes kneeling - praying as theory does not work we need a critical mass a tipping point a 'cleansing conflagration' [only of a sort of course] let's not get carried away however: you await numbers so - expand begin a draft share the craft unite the covens light the ovens [figuratively of course] become vast become exponential identify problems battle problems eliminate problems having become a colossus - thus saving our planet - thus saving us all we should be endlessly grateful to you and if you would I say again - please don't get carried away but - come October have a great

Literature

I Sat Down to Write...

I sat down to write… when a black kitten entered my room with a catnip mouse that dangled from her mouth from its blue yarn tail which she dropped onto the floor before she gazed at me with doleful yellow eyes and mewled for a game of fetch I sat down to write… when the water stopped its usual flow throughout our household and prompted a trip outside to a dilapidated shed to fiddle with the fuse box for our pump until the gauge showed full pressure once again I sat down to write… when the freezer for the refrigerator kept in our garage

Literature

The Cello's Lament

They call me brute. I'm permitted to chant, but they won't let me Sing. They've confused non-agility for inflexibility— my belly enfolds the earth; my throat trills at the stars; my eyes embrace the cays of the sea. I am an omnivore, yet they will only feed me leaves.

Writing of All Sorts

Literature

Odd times

Things aren't always what they seem Take the dice and shake it twice Come on come on Let life roll to pieces It may seem odd But you are strange Time ticks to the sound of my heart As you wave your goodbyes Forever the sun was in your eyes It may seem odd But you are strange Please take my heart as you take my hand Don't pick the dice up Cause this ain't a gamble Just one blow and we're gone It may seem odd But you are strange Take a wink and a kiss I guess this is goodbye

Literature

She Talks With Monsters

This girl never had a fear of monsters. She allowed them to rest on the insides of her eyelids, the crook of her neck, the empty spaces of her chest cavity. She had no fear, there were much scarier things in this world than darkness, clawing at her back. Living for the night she etched her dreams upon the bars of her cage whispering of centuries past because she truly missed the sun, grass on her back. Frosty Decembers have her forgetting what it feels like to love, but she knows who she is— she doesn't need the taste of cigarette ash suffocating her inside her own flesh. November skies tore open this night, ripping a hole i

Literature

Raoul's Death

All Christine could do was stand there, watching in horror as her beloved fiancé and demented tutour locked blades. She couldn't live with another grave before her. She just couldn't. In no time, Raoul was at the Phantom's mercy. He pleaded, oh how he pleaded, but to no effect. The Phantom plunged his blade through him, and kept doing it over and over again. Christine could glimpse a river of scarlett spraying on Erik's face. Now it truly was distorted. Every emotion she had felt before left her. She was left limp, pale, dead. Tears, very warm tears, trickled down her cheeks, but she couldn't feel them. She had nothing left to

Feeling pretty low, decided to get more practice for inspiration week.

Trying out something new with this piece. Instead of keeping to the theme of the inspiring song, I've decided to shape it the way I want it to portray my own theme.

This should therefore give off a different feel from 'Breaking Point'.

As always, if you guess the song this was inspired by you get a psychic cookie :3.

Hint: Their vocalist is dead.

-Captain Chenbeard of the Black Fedora Pirates