C.M.Deer - young adult author


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Poems My Time How the Rain Makes Me Feel Random Ones Baby My Cheap and Tawdry Romance Heart Shaped Tint I Wish Jig Unpretty you. A Side The Tides of Waking Crying is not Beautiful Untitled (The Zipper Song) Heart Why? Honestly Because I Love You Elation One for the World Define Me Hit This One Zelephoni Today Just Me Save Us 1964 Sing Song Exempt From the Pack Sawdust in my Bones hayte Sweet Sand 12 am My Time "You wanna know what love is, you wanna know?" he said "Love is money, baby, and you don't got the dough." "Money is time, sweetheart, and you're a broken watch, I should leave you here and kick it up another notch. With some other girl in some other place, some other girl with a much prettier face. once upon a time you might be good for me, but that's not what I'm looking for, time is money." How The Rain Makes Me Feel This is how it makes me feel Trickling like demons, running like children Weeping down exposed skin Clinging to every curve Finding every nook and cranny Filling it with... Humidity thick, wrapping, encompassing Suffocating in its abhorrent heat A deviation from normal, a sick fetish Desecrating clean streets Covering the open mouth of the gutters Filling them with... Running for cover, away from the dreaded fall Escaping, saving hair and paper and work Destroying everything petty and of value Crushing it with its strength It's inescapable It's unavoidable It's filling us with... This is how it feels to stand in the rain Random Ones I want to give myself up, soul and body. I want to know what it's like, to give my heart to somebody. I can't help remember, that every thing always sounds the same. It's the same lover, just with a different name. I want to devote myself to you, soul and body. I want to know what you think of me, and if you're my somebody. I loathe the thought of my heart, which has always been quick to love. I want to know what it's like, to be honestly in love. I don't want to be caught in the web, of a man's deception. I don't want to hesitate, I don't want my heart to claim objection. I want to be so sick with it all, that I don't remember my name. I want to be so filled with that thought, that nothing will ever be the same. I want to give myself up, soul and body. And I want to enjoy every moment, with that beautiful somebody. Baby "Baby, baby," he said "Don't do that again, don't do that anymore, Often times," he would implore, "You resemble a filthy whore." And I would say, "But mama, mama, she died all alone, alone on the beach shore, because she WAS a filthy whore." I don't want to die alone. "Baby, baby," he said "All the good girls like a bite, and I'm sure if you try it you just might - like it as much as I love you." And I knew that, "Mama, mama said a doctor is a man, not a boy, and you are to be treated like my least favorite toy, and not to get within a mile of my pride and joy." These legs will remained closed, thanks. But he'd argue, "Baby, baby! I can't take this no more. Your love is less lovey - it's another chore, it's hard enough to remember your name in the morn, but I gotta get through your door..." I keep the door locked for a reason. And I'd run out of arguements, because you can't fight the rich The rich of tongue, that is, because they're always right to themselves. So I'd slam my thighs shut and lock them up tight, 'cause mama, mama died all alone, and I don't want to die tonight. My Cheap and Tawdry Romance I guess I'm just too vile to admit that hurt Just a silly girl with too many thoughts in her head I'm too shy to admit I'm sorry You did nothing too horribly wrong Nothing more than what's expected of a boy A boy is a boy, after all I can think of few things few things so beautiful that hurt so wonderfully I can think of few things few things so beautiful that hurt so totally It was clever of me to be so silent at a moment so beautifully said Point out all you want, the weather's good enough I'd say we're in for a downpour. I'm too vile to admit how much that hurt Too quiet to appologize for something of my own accord I'd rather hear you suffer Please, suffer, my heart can't break again. I can think of few things few things so beautiful that hurt so wonderfully I can think of few things few things so beautiful that hurt so acurately Oh baby, you know you don't mean a thing you say Don't humor me with your cameo appearance I'm in your bed, that should be good enough. I could lie to save myself, say I didn't mean it either but I meant it, and that hurts every day. It's alright, 2nd is better than last I can think of few things few things so beautiful that hurt so wonderfully I can think of few things few things so beautiful that break me so completely Heart Shaped Tint You clean windows before you tint them Before you layer blackness over them a protection from the sun and the UV and all that other harmful junk It's supposed to protect the interior save it from damage and depletion save you from car-sun-cancer and a hefty fine of replacing your dashboard Tint is black Black makes the inside hidden invisible if the predator can't see in the predator can't steal anything Even if there's nothing worth stealing there's always the possibility of a break in We can't have that. But...what if we didn't tint? What if we reveled in the idea that cancer was a solution? Perhaps the lumps on my body would be justified. It's a mistake, I didn't tint. Or, perhaps, that replacing the dash was benefitial It needed a facelift, a little smile something new, something blue Maybe paying a fine is worth it if the end result were something glorious beautiful Then again, there's always the one that breaks in tint or no tint and steals away. I Wish I wish I could write my youth With all the intricacies of the perfect words and the perfect puns and the perfect justification of me. But my words always fall short of what I'm longing to show. Maybe I have no soul. I wish I could tell you how much I hate you and how many times I cry inside but it's only inside. Because when I cry, I disgust myself. I'm too fragile, and real women aren't fragile. I wish I could fuck you sometimes. Literally, metaphorically, mentally. Make you cheat on the "real" girlfriend. Just because I know it'd make you miserable and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself but I would. I know I have no soul. I wish I wasn't so frail in his eyes because I never feel quite 100% then I can't read him, he's too simple for me Me, who's seen nothing but drama and trauma I can't peel away the layers and examine them, pre-med style But I curse myself cross because he's just a guy that I happen to actually like. I wish this would rhyme so I could put a beat to it, a melody that would make it seem intricate with all the right words and all the right lines but to me, nothing seems right. I'm not happy unless I'm failing miserably to myself but accomplishing the world to the world. I'm not happy unless I'm fake and colorless. I wish I wasn't so amorphous. I wish I didn't bend to every whim I happened upon. I wish I never had the fear of god struck into me. Maybe then I would have no soul and be okay with it. Jig I am hollow, because being bruised isn't enough I am bent, because broken is just too much I have taken my doubts and let them run astray I am a liar, and you're forever my saint This is no hallow, this is no sanctuary This is my mind, baby, and it's all about me Knock all you want, it doesn't listen to you anymore Scream all you want, it's all an evermore I've got six reasons to be like this Living, breathing, piece of shit Reasons like your violence like my silence like your blatant ignorance like you're lying like I'm crying and we're doing this dance again I'm no woman, I'm just a girl that's why this mainstream love hurts more You're not that boy, you're that man the man with the candy eyes who wanted my thighs I've got six reasons to hate you dying, grieving, loveless deja vu Reasons like sacrifice hate can't suffice mediocre day like you're depressed again and you're drinking again drugs again and I'm doing this dance again Reasons like your obsession, my devotion, your addiction, my affliction. Exploit me when I call your name, feed and feast on my pain. Play the libertine, play the virtuoso, I'll remain austere in your shadow. I'm just your vile woman. And I'm doing my dance again. Unpretty Believe me I'm unstable, that thing on the table... shiny, silver, covered, with the need to be loved by skin and bone. I drive all alone through the pouring rain, but mile after mile is still the same. Each glance in the rear view just confirms I'm unpretty. Today. There's a tick, tick, tick in my left ear, but the reflection stays the same in the mirror. And the creeps are growing closer, Moses leads the unfaithful to the west. I'm unpretty. Always. Believe me, we're unstable, the matchstick burns the table. And each line, line, line sincere perfection. But my hands remain clean. There's a monster in my bed, he's sincere, feels no fear, especially when he's close, close, close to me. I want to run, want to flee but I'm stuck in the sheets. I'm so unpretty, always. It's unstable, a massacre upon the table, and every single breath is cold as ice. I'm unpretty this way. you. You hurt me again. This is nothing new, this is no crazy notion... You have a way of getting under my skin, of breaking my heart. You do, you do. You lied again. This is new, this is fresh, this is a wound that still burns my eyes with tears. This is something I don't want to get used to. you do, you do. You're gone...again. I should expect this, these infrequent absenses, these time frames of utter loneliness that inspires hopelessness. Always selfish, always thoughtless, always hurting me. You do, you do. You're pushing me away again, something I wish you wouldn't do. You're testing me again, seeing just how long you can trust me, how much longer until I leave you. How much longer will it take? These tests, this pain, this deciet and hurt, before you're happy? You want me in pieces, you do, you do. A Side I'm on the wrong side. Some seventy plus miles away. A place of tumbleweeds and barren desert, your greenery is a mystery to me. I'm on the wrong side, staring over a lake of monsters... ones who dare me to cross. There's infinate possibilities of the other side, of your greenery and your promises. But I can't help but think, time to time, that I'm not on the wrong side... you're the wrong side. The Tides of Waking There is an empty bed, alone, calm, a crystal in the rough. There is light, beautiful, silhouettes of love in the cold morning air. There is movement, the quietest of ones, the shudder of covers, the toss of hair. There is a soft face, with bright eyes clouded only by sleep... but turned dark, by the realization of solitude. The movements are quicker now, confused. A hand reaches out, touches the covers...still warm. still warm. Pacing, days later. Tears have run out of room to fall, thoughts have run out of places to creep, and a fragile, lonely bird does flutter about. A finger to the lips, the teeth bite softly... where? It's unexcused. Regret passes, sadness passes, numbness passes... confusion seeps in. It's not her, it's him. And her heart is still warm... still warm. Crying is not a Beautiful Thing Crying is not a beautiful thing. Tears are not pearls or diamonds - not things to adorn your cheeks. A cry, a sob, is not a sound of happiness, but defeat. Pure and utter hopelessness. And that is not beautiful. Crying is not a beautiful thing. It brings out every imperfection - the lip curl, the furrowed brow, the bloodshot eyes. True tears are not beautiful things, they are lonesome lovers, caressing the soft skin below a watered eye. Crying is not a beautiful thing. It is done in desperation, not for ones self but for another. Tears do not purify, they show to all that you cannot contain your emotions. They betray you, these tears. Like the unfaithful friends they are. Crying is not a beautiful thing. It is a sickness of the heart, where it just wrings every thought out... like a wet rag. But there are always reminants of the original cause, long after the rag went dry. Crying is not a beautiful thing. Untitled (The Zipper Song) I have a pair of pants where the zipper needs assistance to stay up If not held securely in place by a string, down it goes Mother says it's because they're too tight but I disagree if a thinner girl were to wear it, the same would happen unless held up, it would fall down and I wonder - does she know not all things can be fixed, and at times not even mended? Perhaps the solution is not something like 'find someone else' or 'get a different type' perhaps it's more like 'accept the bad, deal with the good, and you'll find happiness in the most unlikely fit' Heart Heart, I am belittled Deviated, desecrated the consumption of a saw of malpractice There's a wretched injustice in these cloves There's a harmonious mutiny in those eyes in that voice on those somber, rosey lips There is a dark plunder of rosary between two eyebrows ones I have been ill-fated to touch with more than my sight There's a sensuous slumber to your delicate taste one that leaves me rapt of movement for hours Heart, I am devistated in my own demise yet I throw myself into it like a ship to the sea for each crest, each wave, each pleasureful ride assures me that such horrid, torrented abuse will subside to the afterglow of the tidbits of love you may bring While I cannot help this creeping demon this traitorous train of thought that dares pull me under I heave not against Heart, for Heart is sure she knows what is best. why? Take this in your cold clammy hands and for once try to understand why I'm not here why I don't want to be with this why I don't need your permission why you don't dictate my life not anymore - not ever. Maybe I should settle the score. You don't get what you've done, you're an uncaring, unwavering, horrible sun of a - yet I stop myself before my anger takes off. You're so good at playing the martyr the voice of reason - treason? Never, not against who you love so. Love so? You never let me go. Why? When your claws make scars on my soul, why did you take the time? That's what I want to know. I wasn't good enough at first - nor was I at the end, and now that it's over I'm still just a girl. Take it with a grain of salt, or maybe a bit of arsenic - you're not exactly wanted anymore. Maybe I am what you say - an angsty lesbian, a whorible wench, a bad kisser too thick in the lips with a chin that's too cleft and a nose a bit too big with the odd walk, shoulders down - slouching, pronouncing that I am, indeed owned. The thick thighs, the undeniable eyes. I'm more than that physical aspect, though my thoughts may not be clean, and I may not be pretty. I'm still me. And now - I'm me without you. The straight, conservative, model wannabe who will never be fine. Honestly I can say - 100% honest - that I don't care I ignore how you stare, ignore how you glare. I don't care that you may hate me - I said and did what I said for a reason, so leave it be. There's no excuses this time, why explain myself? I get it, so why do I care, why tell everyone else? Oh I'm so harsh, you might say, uncaring, undeserving, but do as you may - your words are just words they don't pave the way. I get it, and I don't care, I suppose you do, I make you sick to your stomach, through and through. It's not the first time that this has happened - though not my own accord You try to sympathize, try to understand, but lord! There's nothing to see here, move along. Because I Love You He mentioned me in his letter. Just me. By name - the name we all knew. Not a pet name so no one would know. He used my name. What'd he say? I don't remember. It's hard to read through tears. Something about drama and conflict and how it's been going on for years. I'm the only one who gets it, the only one to understand, the only one to be a friend. Or maybe I'm just imagining. He mentioned her too, by name - but that's a no brainer, she's his girlfriend. She tells me she's sorry - sorry I'm loosing a friend, sorry for what she did she doesn't matter, but he does. And I wonder - why make this about you? I got no letter from you, just childish crap about you you you Suddenly I'm afraid - afraid for him, it's been a long time, hours it seems. Are the dead afraid of the dark? Elation I don't mean to be valiant - But ask the priest next door. He'll tell you, he'll affirm I'm sure... That the greatest sensation is elation. Ask the girl who has you pinned to the floor, the one with the talented tongue. She'll tell you between lusty breaths, while it's all deep in her thick depths. That elation is the only sensation worth living for. The bitch in the back will laugh at love, tell her that it's below - she's so above. While she's stripping that attire for the business man she'll reffer back to her moto, her mantra The only sensation worth a thought is elation Hipster hopper rocking to the song peeling the thoughts from his eccentricities Lost in the wavelengths of his sensible delicacy The only sensation, he'll pad on the floor, is elation. One For the World A face to the world A gun from behind When each peniless soldier Was ready to die. Red vs Blue and Blue vs Red It doesn't really matter When or who ends up dead. What's the cause do you ask? No one's for sure. We just know we're doing it. For the red and blue. Define Me There's no case with living if living is surreal it's fake, it's flawed, it otherwise worthless useless. She was right, we tear ourselves apart and then claim there's something live for. That there's beauty in death. But death is not beautiful, not the death that does not come back. Like the death of your personality, the death of your will to live. How about the death of emotion? Is apathy not death? Tell me that's beautiful. and I will l a u g h. If we're all so filled with ambition and emotion then why am I the only one who motivates? Why is it that school does nothing more than move you to an inevitable fate of hate for authority? Why is it that we make ourselves a slave to the unspoken authority until it drives to depression? anxiety? Why is it that convulsion and hate are preformed by those who wish to keep us sane? Sane? I think sanity is a synonym for "in check." That's all we are - in check with your realities. You're so full of shit. Beauty is so temporary. The soft feel of the lips on lips...it's washed away by the false promises of a long lost love. Are they false? If you don't go you will never know, but if you stay you will never know. In a parrellel world where all the right choices are made - that's the truth. But they're not so visible, they're clouded with 'the norm.' If we're not in check, we're knowing what we were born to know. And that is ourselves. Fuck your inhibitions. Hit This One Justify that last deceptive move with another witty banter. I'm not buying your ego trip, because it's full of shit. There's nothing between us, nothing left to save Nothing left between us, I would never save You took your time to cater to your own needs leaving us in the dirt. Justify your lack of spine Justify your attention seeking shit Justify the reason you decide to do as you do because this is mine. You're so mislead to think I ever cared - so mislead to think there was more than I did. I did it just to make you feel needed, when I'd be better off without you. So drag that betraying carcass to some other some other that may care some other to honor your endless tooth decaying words justify that, and I'll show you mine. Zelephoni The situation plays out in my head as the phone rests under my fingers, it would ring, the systematic chime all phones carry now-a-days, I would answer it, my customary quizical "Hello" and then it'd start. Yell, thrash, a "How could you do that to me?" As if it had anything to do with you. In my mind I watch myself tense, watch my mouth move and the words form. No, Princess, it's not that simple. I try to help, you push me away, like all friends do. As usual, stretching myself to the fullest limits, tarnishing my reputation for you. All I get is this, from "The Sun Revolves Around Me," her tongue moving at lighting speed, but I interrupt. God forbid I try to be your friend, pitch in when it's needed. Oh, but that's the key there... you see me as a friend. Nothing more... Click. I hung up this time, and this time I'm not the one crying. The phone lays dead in my hands, and with much ado I dial each number. 7 of them, each a deliberate pounce of my fingers. Beep, beep, beep... "Hello?" The customary, quizical answer you give. And me? A breathy hello, my voice breaking. There is no yelling. Today We held hands as we entered the room, connected by more than that silly notion - that holding hands defined something. Really, it was the touch, something I longed for, lusted for, tasted with every bead of sweat - as it broke and fell down my forehead. My cheeks, so lush in their crimson enrapturement, counterparted by your facade of love - ripping apart every bit of me once the lie came out. The ripples of your palm against my own stout fingers, the stroke of the thumb along my hand was customary - the sign this was only temporary. As the door opened, as the room came into view, your hand left mine, thrust against your side in mock innocence - god forbid the class inside know of our affair. Yet later, was it only moments so?, you divulged our secrecy, my quiet affection, your lack there of, to another - another who lusted in return for the taboo creation of my love. My love for you. Just Me Why is it that I'm tired until it's time to go to bed? Why is it that I'm sick and wish that this would be burried and dead? I don't know what caused this sudden apathy, but I do know that I'm stuck inside someone who looks like me. Do I hate it? Why give it shit when it gives you fire? And what makes you think this mood is in dire need to be settled when I can't even think of why I'm here. why I fear. This apathetic emotion naseauted notion is running my skull dead running my skull... hurts my head and I hate every part of me everything I see and can't see about me about me about me I have somewhere to rest my head but I wouldn't do it, not when I feel so dead and empty inside when there's broken pieces of me pieces you can't truely see because you'll never try to see it's not you in question, and I lack the will for a confession to you or anyone for that matter. Why would it matter? if I opened my mouth to tell my story or sing my song? Won't you just tell me that I'm wrong? and scribble something on a paper. On that paper. -chorus- Just me Only me and everything I say and want to say it's stuck in me another day Just me Only me Can't even communicate my necessity or fatal casualty Just me. Save Us There's a shield lined with good intentions over this little girl There's a stake sharpened with love in her heart There's a hole ripped with knowledge of what would come of this We all know where this is heading We all know where it's gone We all know where this is heading We knew all along There's a break in the bone in the soul in the chi of a girl who you couldn't just let be You say its love and I say what a funny way to fall off a cliff - shove. You say you do it to save us To keep us from ever hating the other Loving one another But the stake, and the shield, with the hole, that I have runs so much deeper than yours And every word you say, every excuse you make pushes it deeper, deeper, into me You say you do it to save us. 1964 Forgive me sir, once again I've lied, cheated, committed a sin. rejection is a fatal aspect of our 30% lives as is the melodramatic society, cancerous working breakout of hives. majority is minority and my sorority doesn't quite get the picture. Perhaps it was the tiled frame, the same old gain from the same old game. But I still feel stuck Right. Here. Maybe it's entropy is a sadistic sense or the feel of the tile grate against bare skin I think it's your essense the small sound of dripping water on the bare skin of the tile. Ah, yes, my sin again my dear sir do forgive me. Perhaps my lyrical lymric of sorts has popped another song into an innocent boys head. Shy shy tragic tragic citar playing mahogony stairs oh my stars. But what of mars? A far too lonely visit to a place of tile where your bare feet slip on a sadistic smile It's a melodramatic plagurism of the heart. But. where. to. start? Sister sister forgive me mister. my sin again, forgive again? These hallow halls and hallow heart and small little prizes oh my my aren't we smart. But don't touch this one, she bites. Underneath skin forgive my sin mister touch the bare floor with its bare tile and it's sad sorta song of a lost lovers gone wrong. welcome to 1964. Sing Song All is silent on the desert sky, all except a forgotten cry. Baffeling how something so serene is so easily broken, and how the ground becomes soaken in lies. Maybe a standstill will prove something grand, yet the wind will still travel over the sand. Burnt sand that burns your heart, merciless even from the start. Hush, let the chimes ring your destiny - you know you're done for. Exempt From the Pack always knew a wall had a reason I never really thought it over, though. Maybe it's there for my own protection to keep the birds out of the lawn... or maybe it's there to keep the dog from getting loose or to keep the swans from nesting in our pool what a lie childhood taught me what it was a wall. there to keep us all in and to keep them all out. them who hate who discriminate who dislike who scream who cry who throw their terror at us all my wall keeps me away from them but they still break through Sawdust In my Bones They say silence can alter an eternity, and I know yours must be up soon. you think you can hide it all, even when you fall. They don't see what I do they don't smell what I do they don't taste what I do... ... it's all the lies on you so in the end I guess it's okay, but I do have a confession to make. your smile is the prettiest mask I've ever seen Choke down another sob, smile as they pass you by. Don't appear so attached to what you love dear, so when it falls away you can sneer. You call it inevitable, and I easily agree. Because no one can see, can see you and me. If I promise to break your fall if I promise to do it all If I promise to never lie If I promise I'll always try If I promise that it'll never die If I promise there'll be no goodbye... Will you still hold my hand in the end? I promise to be your friend. I promise to make them stop. I won't sit passive while they fuck you over anymore. hayte I wouldn't change for you, not a single thing I do. I wouldn't break or mend my soul, even when their heads roll. I won't touch my thoughts with you, even if you want me to. I can't stop the way I feel, feel about you. Break this will of me take it away from inside lash the heart you so dearly love and break it in half cut me again peirce my mind with your thoughts thoughts of love and care but you're forever unaware Hate this beauty you so easily stole, Hate this gentle caring soul. Hate the monster you again sow together for you, and you and you. Hate the silence that you drive upon me, Hate all that you can and cant see Break me again tear away my every thought of love and turn it into your dark compassion break this heart out rip away my love and take me under with every lash of your sword you tore me again broke me into nothing dust one more settled in your path the aftermath of... Sweet Sand When the only sound is the dead man's breath, and the only feeling is a hole in your chest, should you just give up right then? It seems useless and trivial to walk amungst the living, when inside you're so very dead.... maybe it's true what they said? And the constant singing of the cat calls fill your head, once more another lie their fed... do you wonder if you're invisable? as the black and blue run together, does life really matter? or should you just cave in? There's no hope in this desolate land, which was once so promised in rich. I'll just abandon you here, and hope to find myself, the one I once held so dear. so save me from your sickness, don't drop me again. 12am I can still see the scene painted before me. 12 am had a sign of leisure about it's mystical hour, the witching hour. A silent night, so beautiful, a starking contrast to me. Me, a body once so dull. Lifeless. incomplete. Now, in the reflection of emerald cast orbs I see myself, half more then the half I was. I can still recall the gentle caress of the dew from a day in rain on my skin. The sticky sweet sensations that rocked my being that night...they lay sharp. The sweet serenade, like a rich lathering wine, so tangible as it passed my lips. Was she across from me? Did it matter? A night spent like such; one doesn't pause to assess the damage they create. But the moon... Witching hour this orb of intensity shone brightly down upon our alabaster form. Yellow in color, round in shape...it seemed to take up the whole sky. It reflected in the sheen of sweat that had conspicously surrounded us both. Salty, sweet. It was a night of texture, taste, love, beauty. But the moon... Ever brilliant. From rooftop it's even more luminous then one might have origionally imagined. I wanted to steal it, to take it in my fingers and absorb that too. New tastes. That was what the night was. New tastes. The new taste of her. The new taste of us. The new taste of lust. Oh, I love that satisfied.

Poems