lemonadepanacea

thalia thomas

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i really really need a by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

i really really need a

His door key didn't fit and for some reason he was disappointed. Not that it should be that easy. That he should have come some three thousand odd miles to this thriving metropolis, spend four hours on the phone, finding her name on some worn receptionists book in a cum-stained hotel hole in the wall across town, but that the door key that the perverted old Mexican at the dark Welcoming office would not fit the door, behind which she could quite possibly be sleeping. Never mind, that coming all this way it might have been easier for him to just knock on the door, accept her look of grievances, her shoddy apologies for fucking up his life, her

rhetorical devices by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

rhetorical devices

but have you ever been in love, kind sir? and by love, i don't mean a totalitarian liplocking cornicopia of fragrences (plumeria abound) fantastic phantasm of security instead, you dream, perchance to know what's on your lovely lady's mind oh yes, kind sir, have you ever been in love? a drastic drama not- hopeless in bloodless contusion not- hands sweat sweet hot head, red heat prime declarations followed by ice cold feet instead i mean that which will be your end a demise you would surely invite oh please, kind sir, tell me you've been in love! blood vessels in willing ovation stand in attention, your face crimson s

one more day by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

one more day

cotton candy condoms sold and stolen soft and swollen used and broken as empty tokens of love and loss and fancy deprived and sideways always lying alive contrived of that which would bless which would endure which would lay [in repose] like most- instruments of habit inhabit a life of cold water and all i've got is your hand (allow me that at least) that which i can rely on that which will endure that which will be my end so we're gonna lay (so we're gonna lie) in silence a silence that frightens soapy and fragile hoping so agile that (though) all i've got's your hand all i'll ever need is your hand but in

eighteensecondsbeforesunrise by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

eighteensecondsbeforesunrise

ice like angels float poppies terrorfields of fright and lust delight us all and like, the light beknownst become to most, the truth and the sun delight, to most the light, to dry in the october nights, the sun becomes the one we like we miss at night the angels in disguise indecent cloud in control our flight home and popsicles do the same i\'m saying it\'s cold i\'m saying, no way on october nights in the north, it\'s cold, the sun and sleep elude and there is nothing and once melted in delight popsicles do the same

frantic and sentimental by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

frantic and sentimental

i would make a plane reservation on the phone. in a frantic way, the way they do it in the movies. like, if my mother had died and i would have to be strong and make arrangements for her funeral. i wouldn\'t call anyone else. leave in mystery. like leave in hair color. i would leave a mark. this is where the summer ends. i am sentimental. and sleep on a hammock to remind me of times i never had. times i had in books. a hammock on the roof of a seventy foot residence hall at a college i don\'t belong in. i snuck in. don\'t tell a soul. i don\'t belong here. i don\'t belong at home. but i\'m still sentimental. and i still miss the life that i

love in times of cholera by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

love in times of cholera

love in times of call her a whore in terms of endearment in speeches and peaches and roses make her your own love in dreams of apathy and rain and fucked up feet blistering, savage compete for that which would ruin you- love \"is a many splendid thing,\" she says the absence of her brings the obscene in you which makes sense to her and just makes you a fuck up grounded like a little boy she can fly away she doesn\'t need you on a typical day she can eat her ice cream in peace she can lose her worried mind and sleep on a typical day, and things are beautiful and in some fucked up peace you can lay down, on a be

coltrane for by lemonadepanacea, literature

the danger of detachment by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

the danger of detachment

this may take awhile- not that there isn\'t much to say (or too much) just that information, like this... quantifiable information like this numbers like these blue lights like these veterans like these don\'t mean much to me anymore so i know this kid and he took getting used to but by then we were over so i knew this kid and i knew this space he took up and i knew where his hands went and i knew this kid like a kid can know anything... cuz, i knew this boy rather... rather well with ferver with haste and i know this kid in my dreams he\'s this hero he\'s this devil and he intimidates me this kid plays cards go

stop doing what you do by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

stop doing what you do

i wish i could do it i do "stop doing what you do, keep doing it too" i wish i could do it be smooth and be cool "stop doing what you do, keep doing it too" i wish i could be you be sweet and be lonely i wish i was yours your one, and your only "stop doing what you do, keep doing it too" i wish you'd tell me everything i'd want to hear i wish i wasn't drowning decaying portraying a lie i wish i was alive "stop doing what you do keep doing it too" …so i have this friend, and i have this desire and i have this dream and i wish he'd stop… "stop doing what you do, keep doing it too"

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florida by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

florida

florida i'm a cape canaveral penny/ rusted/ but shining with the ideas of american nationalism/ lost/ but burning with the same of flying mistakes/ i repent rubbing against jane's ass, her back pocket and tom hot and sweaty palm/ i reflect/ the shapes of clouds/ shadow and make lincoln's face disappear/ i regret/ accepting the forgiveness of the sweet angels as they spiral and swirl around/ the challenger as it floats to heaven/ sitting here/ warm with the fever of adventure/ i cry/ as old, dream-less decay climbs clouds into godless stars/ i pray to become some soft pillow/ small childrens' hope falling like condensation peeling from a melt

3x5 and tourtist in hand by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

3x5 and tourtist in hand

they try to capture life only because they can't capture love they use a butterfly net only because the truth is half hearted and they only want what they can't have anyways so we sweep life, with a giant broom, and hope to shatter the cobwebs of hope with a bathey overkill is optional, but not for you, you try to capture life with a vengeance, believing that you can make up for lost time you are simply a voyeur now no shame in trading that butterfly net for a pit to catch tigers in, we are coming of age in samoa and you want to recall every detail just because you didn't have the opportunity doesn't mean i have to suc

redwood by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

redwood

i'm splintered, fractured/ i see the way pieces of this hardened, woodened soul detach and curl away from/ my apex at a glance/ hooded eyes and sunglasses/ do nothing for these swollen, shaven shards/ i am brimming of latex/ not sure of what to say to make you pound your ready nails into my softness/ which driver to make it happen/ the angle has to be just right/ oh!/ what has to work to make you straight/ to push you right in/ a circle of words/ so knowing/ harder/ faster/ slower/ more/ you like it hot you say.../ you must like it electric/ motor's running/ and we're gunning it/ overheated engines/ panting and pulling/ sweating and groaning/

what i need and love by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

what i need and love

that i live in a world of repose and let it's power over come me. repose like a flower comes unglued; unhitched from the time of malcontent. repose is like a sunshade, such is the way of the vacuum and the coffin, shuddering and shadowing light and ellipses. committing repose is much like the sin of forgiveness- to give up, to give in to clarity, when there are other options. such as words. repose is such that it swallows you, perforce to digest you, in that atmosphere, following sex and the limelight. when one is writing, and the other sleeping, arm wrapped around your waist, in inspiration, mouth slack in REPOSE. it is ears softened and wor

centre by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

centre

you are nothing but nausea and theories of wellness buckets of evidence empty of truth to me, you are nothing but transcendence the future, the past but never the now to them you are every thing and hardly ever the never every being, being all swelling to encompass all things small you absorb to allot you absorb too much understanding is everything and misinformation a hunch the world doesn't end for you but it moves- oh, how it moves

el capitan by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

el capitan

oh capitan, my capitan- where art thou lovely head? i miss your sad and mournful eyes, and fear the waking dread oh capitan, my capitan- your heart is quick at length i feel your pulse inside my veins and recall it's awesome strength oh capitan, my capitan- to leave this warm embrace for indeed your body still retains and i musn't practice haste but capitan, my capitan- what will you become? to make this wicked sacrafice for just one night of fun and capitan, my capitan- you know what i must do- to stay here now would be unjust, unfair to me and you so capitan my capitan- my leige, my truth, my stand i won't come back fo

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30 Word Love Story by 3legracehorse, literature

Good by altruisticlies, literature

thinking of you by Whiskeytown-Pirate, literature

Literature

thinking of you

All i wanna say is that im thinkin of your lonelyness, spreading across my lonely heartless soul, watching the shine of your shoes. hanging skelatons flash, on off, strung up on life, never seeing what was accomplis ________________________________________ Fighting against the comfort of the darkness, he slowly opened his eyes to the light. But there wasn't much light in his room; the shades were drawn to simulate the security of darkness that he loves. He's always felt better, more comfortable, in the dark. Slowly, his dreams that he had had the night before came back to his memory. This was a ritual that he had starte

damn by redneckjimharvey, literature

Literature

damn

a glance the wrong way is all it takes like looking at the sun and... BAM! like damn and... it hits you like a runaway train and... you fall like in a dream and... physics do not apply like terminal velocity and... this would explain like why the world stopped spinning and... you look away like there is nothing to see and... you are wrong like that was a mistake and... damn im really going to fuck this up

Heres to - by suckerloveandi, literature

Literature

Heres to -

There\'s a hole in my wall, where he used to hang, i nailed him up there, to cover my pain, but i can\'t forget his eyes and they way they saw through me, to a mass of imperfection and everything i can\'t be.. here\'s to the way, he got into my head...and highjacked my brain with everything he said..and his words came with ease..as i choked them all down...forced them down through my lungs with hopes they would drown and here\'s to me..who hates how i feel..and forgets to wake up when dreams are sureal..who\'s still holding on with a grip far too weak..who wants to say everything but forgets how to speak but heres to the boy...who undoub

Deviation Spotlight

one more day by lemonadepanacea, literature

Literature

one more day

lemonadepanacea

About lemonadepanacea

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Artist // Literature

Bolivia
Deviant for 21 years
She / Her

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My Bio

Current Residence: lucid dream
Favourite photographer: Kim

Favourite Visual Artist

Francisco de Goya

Favourite Movies

Vanilla Sky

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

The Postal Service, The Early November, Third Eye Blind

Favourite Writers

Brauna

Other Interests

sleep

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lemonadepanacea

Oct 13, 2004

byegones

0 min read

well it's official. i'm outta here. you can catch me at my other website... terminalbeauty.deviantart.com

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lemonadepanacea

Sep 9, 2004

catamaran

0 min read

meow!

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lemonadepanacea

Jun 2, 2004

the most perfect phrase

0 min read

ummm, i love you

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Profile Comments 160

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i guess youll never read this, so ill just say hello. and what i just said also...and that too.

deadhalflight

Nov 21, 2005

hey

youre the sexiest woman alive.

jesusbite

Feb 14, 2005

So, I finally got a list up and running for the Link of the Night. If you're not on it (as in, don't get this message, and you want to), shoot me a note, or leave a message or just somehow let me know. Same goes for the instance that you want off the list - please let me know.

Happiness, by

.
The Interview, by

.
Rusting Bridges of Suburbia, by

.

So, I did some peruzing, and earthed up these three pieces.
Happiness is beautiful in its own simplicity, and has a subtle kick to it that I find lacking in a lot of reading these days.
The Interview is an interesting little for-the-stage piece that I found myself cracking up over, all over the place. There's some great humor and dialogue going on here, as well as some great subtle toss-ins for the actors to experiment with. Something I would love to see performed.
While Rusting Bridges of Suburbia might be a little ho-hum subject-wise, the rhythm and control of meter that ~ honestbrutality has accomplished here is impeccable. It takes a lot of practice and a lot of control of vocabulary to get a good rhythm in a slam piece these days, and it's done beautifully here.

Get writing, fuckos. *jesusbite

bye

i enjoy the postal service

rotiv

Feb 23, 2004

Thanks for the fav. Herrrrr... I'm sorry I had to change the colors of it. But I just had to!! That green was getting on my nerve, plus the definition breaks in full view, so I fixed that as well.

Peace!!