Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Deviant FlermiganUnited States Recent Activity
Deviant for 10 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 303 Deviations 16,537 Comments 53,084 Pageviews
×

Newest Deviations

Literature
12.2
I wear my lies like armour.
Sliding off the metal before sliding into our bed.
Truth draped over my bones in the form of flesh.
Sinew and bone cannot tell a lie.
I refuse to speak.
These lungs and the air that escapes them have been steeped in the blackness of untruths.
Any breath taken or recieved is living proof.
And your lips and their softness slide across my neck like the tightning of a noose.
Bringing a little more death with every touch of love, of which I am unworthy.
As the darkness of night envelopes us,
as the quickness of your body and the force of your rhythm masks my unwanted pleasure,
I am helpless.
I lie, unprotected and powerless.
Thick soot billowing out from my lips
with each labored breath.
My truth is everywhere.
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 7 14
Literature
Petrichor
I remember, quite clearly,
the feeling of rain drops that were your fingertips,
sliding down my back;
the way the droplets curled around my hips
and soaked into the top of my jeans—
that has been burned into my brain.
And I remember, like it was yesterday,
the feeling of rose petals that were your tongue,
gliding their way across the landscape of my stomach
and floating between my tan skin and the softness of the cotton
hiding me from the rest of the world.
Still, I forget, as if it weren't real,
that you love me.
I can't seem to remember
I don't need drops of rain or the petals of roses.
I need only your fingertips and your mouth.
I need only a simple look; your eyes piercing mine.
I need only you.
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 6 17
Literature
xo
It starts with a spark
A tiny kiss that barely brushes skin
Fingers like flames tickle the soft flesh just below your ear
Heated breath whispering embers of words
Billowing through the blackened air to melt my steel heart
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 14 28
Literature
A.I.W.
I named her Alice.
Alice against her will.
She had forgotten the letters to her name
and the numbers to her age.
"But letters are so easily misplaced".
She said, shaking her head.
One can't disagree with that.
Simple when I found her.
"Numbers can come in any order"!
She exclaimed, quite matter-of-factly.
Her why's and you's got tangled.
Swirled together in a place she called,
Wonderland.
How did I come to be so lucky?
"Why, you opened your eyes and looked".
She said, so simply.
Thoughts of her strangle me,
leave me gasping at truths,
straws and tight-rope-wire.
I clung to her hope, held on tight to
her sense of wonderment.
Imagination getting me
just
so
far.
Every word leaving me
curiouser.
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 8 9
Literature
31 and Counting
Maybe it's because I can't remember what it feels like to be young
Or the fact that I can no longer make young women fall in love with me.
It could be that I haven't danced in longer than I care to think about
It may be that the red tank top I used to wear doesn't exactly fit the same way it used to.
I know things about myself now.
I've learned things,
forgotten things,
people,
times,
kisses.
I have a serious case of the elevens
and my grey hairs are starting to take over the black.
I had an attitude and
sly, little smirk that could
melt hearts and
break them
just as easily.
I know things about myself now.
I repeat myself.
I don't listen like I used to.
I drink too much,
eat too much,
have sex too little and
breathe
just
a bit more
shallow.
Just a few of the things
I dislike
about knowing who I am.
Just a few reasons to
hate growing older.
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 9 17
Literature
groundhog day
I'm in this place again
Pacing back and forth
Just waiting for you to see me.
And I know it's just a matter of time.
A moment or two before the yellow
in your eyes pierces right through me.
And I fall
Again.
Packing up.
A place for everything.
This ring, that ring.
My heart and yours.
There's a place for everything,
you say.
Train's leaving in an hour.
Tracks pulling me to a place I've never been.
Never wanted to go.
But I know it's over.
Nothing here for me.
No more air for me to breathe.
It's not the destination,
it's the journey,
you say.
But I know you.
You're a wonderful liar.
My wonderful sinner.
Every strand of hair is a lie.
Wave to me this morning with your eyes closed.
Better to see me with.
But only this morning.
A deep breath in,
a sigh of relief,
disgust,
hate,
love.
I will see you again.
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 6 15
Belief by Flermigan Belief :iconflermigan:Flermigan 4 21
Literature
saosin
I felt my soul leave
about 7 days before I died.
I was driving up 93 and
just happened to catch it
floating out the window.
There are moments when
you just
know.
And I knew.
It was only a matter of time.
So few hours left to
say my goodbyes.
Say hellos I had been
meaning to say.
I love yous.
Only a blink of an eye
to tell the truth.
And the truth was
I hadn't really lived.
I tried, yes.
But this wasn't a
"good"
life.
It was simply a
Life.
And maybe that was enough.
Looking out the window
that day,
in that car,
it was enough.
Closed my eyes,
rolled down the windows and felt
a sudden rush of air.
A breath from someone
else's screams.
Wake Up.
7 days left to finally
open these eyes.
Finally feel,
just
feel.
A week to make these
30 years worth
something.
And then
Relief.
The end of a life.
My life.
It took me 30 years
to finally figure out that
it could happen
to me.
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 11 24
Literature
5.28
Truth be told,
I've only had sex a handful of times.
Minus a digit or two.
I'm a child trapped inside a 30 year old's body.
I am honest.
But,
truth be told,
I
am mostly fiction.
I take the fantasy of you and turn it
into a sex-soaked love affair that's never
truly
happened.
Use imagination to make a
memory.
That is when they're best.
Recollection by
story telling.
It's always worked because I'm
scared of the reality.
Life.
It's harder than it seems.
These days,
it's harder than it seems.
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 10 18
Literature
Like Torture
Fingertip-poise and blood-soaked confidence.
She tears through my skin.
And she strips me bare.
She sees through my autumn eyes
and she knows
she knows me.
I love her and I
like the pain she brings.
I adore the screams in the night,
the clenched fists and teeth.
It's comforting to know that only she
can make me feel this
blood-lust sort of pain.
And I've heard she breathes fire.
And I know what they mean when they say
she's poison.
Pitch-fork tongue and eyes a color
not found in nature.
She is just my kind of poison.
The way she leaves me shaking
with just her words,
just a little
token.
She is more than I could ever ask for
and something I will never truly have.
And I'll love her for the way she left me.
For the ways I will never leave her
breathing hard and covered in sweat and
wanting more.
I'll love her for never being mine.
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 8 41
Literature
11:38
Separately the same but
together,
so different.
"But we all change",
you say,
with a smirk and a cigarette.
You tongue your teeth and
I know,
you're lying.
We breathed that same,
salty air all Summer.
You let me rest my
head on your shoulder
and I let you
fuck in my bed.
It's all the same.
A little give and a
little take.
8 hours asleep and back to the
porch,
back to the bottles.
More nicotine than oxygen
but
that was us.
Those were our rides.
Those were our
words.
Our high pitched
Dylan harmonica
and sweet, little songs
we sang
to one another.
Our silly, naive
hearts.
Dancer's hands,
freckle faced,
matching birth marks and
a time in our lives that
screamed intensity and
passion
so fucking loud,
I think the whole world could hear it.
And I realize you're
what
I'm missing.
We will always have
that Summer.
Those slow days,
those crazy,
always midnight
nights.
We're still there.
We're just a bit
changed.
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 9 23
Literature
11.14
And she's pretty,
My God is she pretty.
But she lacks that,
sort of,
Appeal.
And her breath is almost,
Melodic.
But she doesn't have a song.
No, no sort of,
Hook.
And those fingers, so soft,
like 5, long whisps of silk
But they lack any pattern.
There's no,
sort of,
Fabric.
Yet she charms me,
she has that,
sort of,
Charisma,
That just holds you
close.
She is flawed and she is
just, sort of,
Perfect,
for me.
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 10 23
Literature
The Forts
With sun bursting through clouds it's harder to find your way. The hazy,
pin stripes paint the day in a yellow tinted mask that makes everywhere seem
like home.
And I know it's only a backdrop, yet I chase the setting star up Telegraph Hill. There,
I find the souls of men who shared my passion for the lighthouse and the city
it welcomes.
This is where I find my reason and this is where that reason becomes a life. The ocean,
my quill and my eyes fill with words of waves and salt water foam breaking on
the sand.
The rays soon give way to twinkles of light in a blackened sky. The haze,
turned to smokey wisps of fire spark flickers and midnight chants of the
Summer Solstice.
I know tomorrow will bring another sun, another day of greens and blues. The ocean,
her tides and unforgiving moon will again write a song that plays the night sky like
a harp.
Melodies of the start of a season and the beginning of new life continue on. Here,
where we find the melding of souls and the image of horses a
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 8 3
Literature
Her Story Pt. 1
         It happened months ago and I still hadn't cried. I mean, I still hadn't cried about it specifically. Maybe once or twice after a night of drinking but I don't think that counts. My Mom was the kind of woman that, if you didn't know her, you'd think her rude. You'd think she was one of those mean old ladies. She wasn't, though. She was selfless and funny. My Mother carried herself like Kathy Bates in Misery, but really, those of us who knew her, knew she was more like Kathy Bates in Titanic. The unsinkable Molly Brown. A woman that spoke her mind and cared more for other people than she ever would for herself. I think that's why she lasted so long, being so sick. I think she was living for me.
         I don't know everything about my Mother's life, in fact, I know very little. The things I do know make me believe she was a superhero. I suppose every kid thinks that of their mother. In my
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 10 17
Literature
13
On nights the sky brings the trees a red glow,
these are the nights I think of you.
Late January skies that scream
a remembrance of mid-October,
it's this cry that floods my mind
with you.
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 9 12
Literature
A Love Song
I've fashioned eyes from barbed wire
and I poke through whatever I can to see you.
Through the streams
and red
and sinew
I will finally see you.
It takes everything
so I do anything.
Screaming from the pain,
the pain of being unveiled.
Hopping the chained links
and slicing through flesh.
If that's what it takes.
That's what it takes.
And I know what they mean now
when they say,
"once in a blue moon".
I mean,
I get it
now.
I get it
through you.
Wonderful colors just pierce through me
vehemently,
relentlessly.
A washing of grey and a stab of
yellow.
Mixed with the stainless steal
of my brown.
Our names are here
but we are not.
:iconFlermigan:Flermigan
:iconflermigan:Flermigan 10 28

Random Favourites

Drugs or me by IwishIwasPretty Drugs or me :iconiwishiwaspretty:IwishIwasPretty 469 120 Eye of the last time by Allyntu Eye of the last time :iconallyntu:Allyntu 35 16
Literature
we need maps
we are compasses
pointing opposite of where
we'll find ourselves next.
:iconcries-of-the-past:cries-of-the-past
:iconcries-of-the-past:cries-of-the-past 4 15
Moon Sequal by cries-of-the-past Moon Sequal :iconcries-of-the-past:cries-of-the-past 1 1 Blue Skies by paintedphotos Blue Skies :iconpaintedphotos:paintedphotos 1 1
Literature
Dying
Each day,
I lose a
little more
of myself.
By the time
death comes,
I’ll already
be gone.
:iconBlueskye27:Blueskye27
:iconblueskye27:Blueskye27 169 48
Fairy-tale Lovers by Marinshe Fairy-tale Lovers :iconmarinshe:Marinshe 3,856 246 Photo 110 by eulaliaeulalia Photo 110 :iconeulaliaeulalia:eulaliaeulalia 2 6 beauty is... by fragilemuse-org beauty is... :iconfragilemuse-org:fragilemuse-org 959 163 sunset on lake by origamifreak sunset on lake :iconorigamifreak:origamifreak 3 3 Mushroom fairy by Alextraza
Mature content
Mushroom fairy :iconalextraza:Alextraza 2 9
Unreachable by empatia Unreachable :iconempatia:empatia 342 83 eat ur hart out 2 by JeanFan eat ur hart out 2 :iconjeanfan:JeanFan 2,224 443 Contemporary Dancer by ryoung Contemporary Dancer :iconryoung:ryoung 283 48 See-Scape by rockinxrebecca See-Scape :iconrockinxrebecca:rockinxrebecca 10 16 but you haven't called by AnjaRoehrich but you haven't called :iconanjaroehrich:AnjaRoehrich 605 142

Activity


When I was 5 years old I thought the Smurfs lived in my bathtub drain. Now, at 33, I know that wasn't the case. 

That little fact makes me question so much about life. For so long, the Smurfs living in that drain was, for me, a certainty. So, when is it exactly that we realize that other things we know as fact become fiction?

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconnuclearseasons:
NuclearSeasons Featured By Owner Sep 13, 2006
:)
Reply
:icontiinateaspoon:
tiinateaspoon Featured By Owner Sep 11, 2006
Thanks for the watch and fav sweetie! :hug: :heart:
Reply
:iconflermigan:
Flermigan Featured By Owner Sep 7, 2006
hello handsome. i find anyway i can to keep up with you ;)
Reply
:iconnuclearseasons:
NuclearSeasons Featured By Owner Sep 5, 2006
:P howdy woman?
Reply
Add a Comment: