Artsie-Escapee

Najma Rayne

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clanging clocks, his heartbeat by Artsie-Escapee, literature

Literature

clanging clocks, his heartbeat

it's that hour of night where whenever i close my eyes they won't.close. despite how many cracks in the walls i count and how many times i hold onto my pillow for all it's worth, the brown of my eyes won't blur the image of my tall, white, cupboard or the books that line my shelves or my guitar propped up in the corner. the corner of my brain that's willing my body to stay awake is working into overdrive and i can't get it to stop. can i help it if the slightest breeze reminds me of you & me & memories? hand in hand, the shore, sand, between our toes. light, light, warming our skin, feeding us happiness through our pores. more, of

barely there thread. by Artsie-Escapee, literature

Literature

barely there thread.

layla's hungry so, so, hungry ahmed prays, allahuakbar momma cries, she's dead. her vision is starting to get hazy and she can't think straight, it's been 6 hours and she just can't take. the clenching of her stomach by invisible hands and the image of food she can't have-food. she's wondering how long it'll be before the little meat left on her tiny body melts away. like her smile and her innocence and the light in her eyes that has dimmed with every passing, grueling, day-she just wants to be fed. and she can't get the thought of that out of her head. that someone, out there, is eating a hot, homemade dinner and they're not deck

she's not drunk enough. by Artsie-Escapee, literature

Literature

she's not drunk enough.

empty bottles and trash cans with paper crushed into balls of frustration and broken will and empty bottles. her room is a mess and so is her life but she's not exactly sure what'll follow after everything has been destroyed. her pen's run out because all she's been doing has been scribbling words in notebooks but not forming anything coherent like the words stuttering from her mouth and the ink has dried up and she has lost her voice. along with the magic of not knowing, but she knows now. she knows that there's envy in your success even by those you love best and the people you hold dear will die on you. that so

the thing with magic. by Artsie-Escapee, literature

Literature

the thing with magic.

magic wands and playing dressup with auntie's closet of hidden treasures pencils to pain your eyes and showers in a bottle that you spray on the inside of your wrists ballet recitals, barbie dolls, shooting stars windchimes that pirouette with the skies and people fucking dying and windchimes graffiti line the walls of subway tunnels colors, in store bought cans a homeless man on the sidewalk with a cart of cans pushes and listens and breathes a tattoo of a fairy is drawn across her chest because pixie dust and tinkerbell and magic in a nutshell is different but loved and she wants to be loved so she lets steve

driving past in speeding cars. by Artsie-Escapee, literature

Literature

driving past in speeding cars.

it's been a while since i've seen your face and a while since i've wiped your tears and i just have to say, the ring you gave me over a year ago is engraving it's circle around my finger making it that much harder to let go. do you feel it? because i do. we're slowly being driven apart and you're no longer the icing to my cake or the pillow to my sleep or the candle to my wish. and i guess judging by the car i'm in and the wheel i'm behind i'm supposed let us go our separate ways but i pulled over and i'm holding my head in my hands because all i want is for you.to.stay. i know, i know. friends don't last forever and seasons change and fl

i really don't want to growup. by Artsie-Escapee, literature

Literature

i really don't want to growup.

we're all falling into wasted time and feelings unsaid and words etched deep into your soul that were left unread and we were taught from a young age to shoot for the stars and speak your mind and that life is beautiful and if you put in every bit of effort inside of you to carry out whatever task is laid out in front of you, will succeed. and you will be appreciated. and you will be loved. loved like pink cotton candy at a fair because momma believes that 'too much sugar brings on the cavities!' but she caves in every time she sees that look in your eyes. when it's swirling color and carnival lights. longing for sweetness melting on t

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clanging clocks, his heartbeat by Artsie-Escapee, literature

Literature

clanging clocks, his heartbeat

barely there thread. by Artsie-Escapee, literature

Literature

barely there thread.

she's not drunk enough. by Artsie-Escapee, literature

Literature

she's not drunk enough.

the thing with magic. by Artsie-Escapee, literature

Literature

the thing with magic.

driving past in speeding cars. by Artsie-Escapee, literature

Literature

driving past in speeding cars.

i really don't want to growup. by Artsie-Escapee, literature

Literature

i really don't want to growup.

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breathing is secondary by bailey--elizabeth, literature

tremors by bailey--elizabeth, literature

Literature

tremors

curled over a porcelain mouth, i let my dinner fall out. it's 9:33 p.m. and i think about saturday, when rain hit the pavement like firecrackers, the sky darker than the shadows behind the shower curtain. i know there's a spider burrowed between those plastic folds. funny thing about deep spaces; they feel better when they're stuffed full. i think about how your fingertips made my skin feel soft and breakable, how your tongue was warm, about how my legs wouldn't stop shaking and you laughed, whispering, "you okay?" well, there's this experience known as an aftershock. hands clutching cold tile,

emotions with longer names by FriedPickles, literature

Literature

emotions with longer names

"Why are you holding a camera?" Her eyes flickered to look at his. She possessed no poker face—her discomfort made him smile, even now. "I don't know," replied a disembodied voice. The sound of his words made his heart beat faster, made the memories come rushing back in some horrific nightmarish image of a carnival ride. She displayed her white teeth to him in an awkward smile, the flashing red light reflected in her eyes. They weren't looking at the camera—they were looking at him. "Talk to me," he said, loving to film the shape of her face in all that silence but knowing her awkward quirks. "I don't know what to say." Her voice was quie

him by adahplatha, literature

Literature

him

Before I lose my life in this town, I'm looking for a pebble that smells like anything - the ocean, soil, you - that shit. Symptoms include an obsession with clocks and a dismissive anything towards her, the bleak old buzzard who watches with gauze-eyed cataracts as we walk by, - -we- menacing in white sneakers and suntan lotion - - she - has been so long above it all that there is no longer any difference between the declaration of independence and a newspaper article that goes: Everything was terrible and the people died, but really she was just having a bad dream. Really she's okay. And it was all just make-believe, and you fe

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yes, smile, you're beautiful. by Artsie-Escapee, visual art

yes, smile, you're beautiful.

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About Artsie-Escapee

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Artist

United States
Deviant for 14 years
She / Her

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My Bio

Most people take me as an insanely delusional mental case escapee from the local physch ward. Because I have a rather carefree I-don't-give-a-damn attitude I'm considered unstable. Due to my uncanny ability of twisting into submission the English language, allowing me to use it to form my crazy thoughts into somehow coherent words (most of the time) I'm considered stark mad. Yes, basically, I'm chalked off as a wacky weirdo slash loser slash head up in the clouds slash clinically messed up teenager. At least everyone else thinks so. But I mainly see myself as a girl who doesn't care about the laws society has pressed upon her, and just goes and does her own thing, regardless of the comments and degrading remarks that come from it. I'm the girl who can look in the mirror (most of the time) and says screw it all, grabs the nearest hoodie, and heads out the door. Yes, I am completely insane. Because I'm me. And learning to let go and just be me, has brought me the best feeling and gift the world can ever hand out to a person.

I am free.

Current Residence: Ohio
Favourite genre of music: Rock <3 <3
Personal Quote: "You were born an original, don't die a copy."

Favourite Movies

Precious, Four Brothers, A Walk To Remember, Step Up 3D, Dear John

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Something Corporate, Jack Mannequin, Air Traffic, Oasis, Teddy Gieger, All Time Low,

Favourite Writers

Paulo Coleho & Meg Cabot & Louis Bagshaw

Other Interests

Reading, Writing, Painting, Acting, Dance, Photography <3

Posts

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Artsie-Escapee

Mar 5, 2011

brilliance.

0 min read

i am in love with suheir hammad.

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Artsie-Escapee

Mar 2, 2011

Stop By! :)

0 min read

yaaaaaaay! I'M WRITING AGAIN! hahaha i'm so happy i've got this going for me. <3 we got finals coming up and i wonder how many hours will actually be spent studying....my pen & paper are just oh so tempting. Be yourself. Above all, let who you are, what you are, what you believe, shine through every sentence you write, every piece you finish. yes, i completely and wholeheartedly agree. my writing is me, enjoy :)

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Artsie-Escapee

Nov 13, 2010

Believe

0 min read

Believe in the unknown. Believe in faith. Believe in luck. 7 Days Off; Time to give my pen a workout. I need to write more. "I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles."  Audrey Hepburn