Sta.sh
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Shoes of lead, little candor Impalpable silence,Shoes of lead, little candor by *TalkativeMute
Beating me into the ground
Vibes that ricochet off nothing
And my sunken heart
Flickers its beats
And tumbles down
Past my feet
Which stopped dancing
And started walking long ago
(I'm not quite sure why
But I never stopped)
Walking with shoes made of lead
Sometimes I need a little candor
Need a little silence;
Carve and hallow me out
So lies just sit inside me
And never break to the outside;
Leave me treading through dust and snow
(sometimes I need to think for infinity)
Others moment I need to run to
Searching for an inkling of truth;
Forgot that come morrow
All those troubles will be dragging behi
Anatomy breath like cedar treesAnatomy by *TalkativeMute
roots wrapped around your lungs
constricting yet supple
foliage that does the breathing for you
pine needles in your veins
the pulse of rosewood and birch tree forests
pounding in your chest
battle of a thousand piece consciousness
steps like the footprints of a mountain
when the soles of your feet
and the soul of your essence
have rooted themselves to the ground
with branches like wind on its way
to other worlds
the frame of skeletons
with ribcages of ivy
a spine made from innocence
with the grace of your presence
carried by dragonflies
hands that grasps the sky
and juggle crescent moons
fireflies
Promises for a Fool Death lied to her.Promises for a Fool by *TalkativeMute
It told her walking barefoot through the forest would be as safe as a fairy tale. It said her skeleton was strong as steel, that windstorms would not break her bones. Death made her reckless; death made her a daring, rule-breaking dreamer who lived in a house of cards.
Winter deceived her.
Winter told her it meant no harm, told her all she needed was a jacket made of thistles to protect her from its sharp bitter claws. Winter turned her skin pale, her lips blue. Winter nearly killed her, it weakened her. Winter played a dangerous game, but it never lost, Winter was cunning, Winter was a cheater in a game with no rules.
Replenish Me nostalgiaReplenish Me by *TalkativeMute
bitter sweet enclosed in the space between
the pulsing fibers in your lungs
castigated by joining ellipses and rhythms
hindering us from inside out
that haunting ataxia that never ceases
reminisce of your
parched vocal chords
snapping in their brittle cold
that aching, seedy tired resilient in your bones
before earth reflected
what was withered in you
silenced by the duct tape in your ribcage
consumed piece by piece
until daunting, jumbled thoughts take over your spark
caprice beings dance inside us all,
Treat them like finger-paints on white walls
please rebuild your soul
renew your ardor, your essence
forfeited
| Art that holds a special place in my heart! |
Machine You told me you felt like empty spaceMachine by *TalkativeMute
Just a jumble of gears and bolts and cogs
Meshed together by a lonely craftsman,
You said your body just fills empty space,
And fights to complete worthless labors
Fights to tick, fights to breathe,
Fights to be
Hollow eyes, hollow soul,
Machine that was given this rare
Existence, unlike others of its kind
Machine should be a thing of beauty,
But you say machine is just you,
And you are not worthy of
The metal that makes you.
384 "Welcome dreamers," cried the teacher as we shuffled through the door. He was a short, balding man whose gray hair stood up as if he had recently been electrified. "Welcome dreamers!"384 by *TalkativeMute
He shouted again, voice bubbly and out of place.
"Please take you seats, feel free to sit wherever you want! Sit wherever you please!" He stood silhouetted by the green chalkboard, while everything else in the room seamed monotone. Rows of seats and desks, all gray and dull. Me and the rest of all the children are gray and dull as well; dressed in plain gray tunics, all with short buzzed haircuts, even the girls. I stare down the room, as the rest of the ch
Shoes of lead, little candor Impalpable silence,Shoes of lead, little candor by *TalkativeMute
Beating me into the ground
Vibes that ricochet off nothing
And my sunken heart
Flickers its beats
And tumbles down
Past my feet
Which stopped dancing
And started walking long ago
(I'm not quite sure why
But I never stopped)
Walking with shoes made of lead
Sometimes I need a little candor
Need a little silence;
Carve and hallow me out
So lies just sit inside me
And never break to the outside;
Leave me treading through dust and snow
(sometimes I need to think for infinity)
Others moment I need to run to
Searching for an inkling of truth;
Forgot that come morrow
All those troubles will be dragging behi
Replenish Me nostalgiaReplenish Me by *TalkativeMute
bitter sweet enclosed in the space between
the pulsing fibers in your lungs
castigated by joining ellipses and rhythms
hindering us from inside out
that haunting ataxia that never ceases
reminisce of your
parched vocal chords
snapping in their brittle cold
that aching, seedy tired resilient in your bones
before earth reflected
what was withered in you
silenced by the duct tape in your ribcage
consumed piece by piece
until daunting, jumbled thoughts take over your spark
caprice beings dance inside us all,
Treat them like finger-paints on white walls
please rebuild your soul
renew your ardor, your essence
forfeited
| Poetry, prose, and photos. |
43%
43%
14%
|
Frequently Asked Questions  What kind of artist are you?I'm a writer. While there is photography on my page, poetry and prose are why I'm here. How old are you? In your pictures you look like a kid, but you don't write like kid!I am 15 and in grade 9. I have been writing since I was four, and I've put a lot of time into expanding my skill beyond the expectation for my age. Although, when people ask me this i find it odd because i'm not exactly sure what kids write like. I'm not watching you for writing, I like your photos! Are you not posting photos anymore?I will keep posting photos, have no fear! But if they stop for a week or two, it just means I don't have time for a photo shoot right now. You keep talking about a novel, where can I buy it?My novel is still in the editing stage. I will try publishing, and self-publish if I have no success. Can you e-mail your novel? I don't want to wait!Sorry! I'm not sending it around, I don't want someone to steal it! Where did you learn to write?I'm self taught! The farthest my education has gone is high school. I have done one online program trough my school for gifted writers, and one summer camp, but those are the only classes I've taken. Didn't you write Hunger Games fanfiction? Will you ever write it again?While I still love the Hunger Games, I have stopped writing fanfiction. What does your username mean? My old username, echonightingale, was random and I hated it. My new username has more meaning to it. TalkativeMute reflects how I act in real life, I have lots to say but I never know how to say it, and when I do I never get the chance.  +  +  +  = me |
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