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Anonymous :icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 1 0
Literature
attempts
this afternoon
unresponsive to the sunlight
lying in bed like summer afternoons and white sheets
still moments in our room
so quiet i can hear your ribcage shifting with each breath
but winter -
winter is coming,
the air is so cold,
my bones break inside.
you shift next to me,
turn your head away,  
hand slipping out of mine,
curling into yourself.
this morning
waking up to brightness outside
the crisp air is singing with potential but
i am quiet
i am inside
i am by myself on this big bed.
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 4 0
Literature
quandary
ah yes,
the second coming of Christ has happened,
it is here.
do not shake your head!
how could He not return?
i hear them calling His name
echoing out of the slums, the squalor in the streets.
the peasants beg for Him to arrive
in all his fleshy splendor.
yes yes it is He indeed
Him of entrails
of piss
of bloated gut and gangly fingers
and roving eyes.
truly, the Rapture is commencing.
the lame, the dying, the lost:
they have found their
prophet, their bloated
mannequin.
and yet,
the mighty have taken His Word
and plastered it to billboards;
they’ve crucified His meaning and crowned it,
labeled it.
they dress Him up well.  
plastic sheeting in straight clean lines,
like a suit freshly pressed -
hiding His soft peachrotten skin
as they command Him to fold devotion
and peddle it in gilded boxes.
they sell autographed photos to the
pilgrims who shuffle on their knees.
indeed, they send them scavenging in the dirt -
begging and betting for coins to pay their way to
His heaven.
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 1 0
Literature
i thought i was dangerous until i met you
my heart beat blue, beat smooth,
smudging into the grooves
of your fingers like powder;
my heart beat gunfire,
pummeling holes in my ribcage.
it was shaking from the cold
of the pouring monsoon -
i was visibly moved.
intoxicated in your gardens,
smelling the song of flowers in my mind,  
i died:
died a thousand deaths.
here,
i quivered from the nonexistence
of your touch,
stumbling with the weight of unpayable debts,
the price of stealing away
your velveteen breath.
i spent all my life chasing after your time;
running towards sounds in the indigo night,
like a blind man's hands
reaching for the light.
i waited
i waited
(oh god, don't tell me how long i wasted)
yeah.
shouldn't have
sold my soul to the devil,
but he handed me a pen and paper
(and i signed
at the dotted line)

and when i turned to him,
i thought he had your eyes -
oh,
i thought hell was full of fire
but the truth is,
hell is full of longing
and it's empty of you.
(yeah, it's so empty without you.)
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 10 0
Harry Potter DeviantID by 369dreamergirl Harry Potter DeviantID :icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 0 0
Literature
i'm sick of wanting you
i know what you were trying to say
but listen:
it's so easy to forget.
it only takes a few weeks of lying to yourself -
until the taste of his slick skin is nothing but a strange
long-forgotten scent that drifts by you,
brought by the wind one moment, gone the next;
until his name doesn't drag shivers down your spine,
(it only makes your nails cut moons into
the sweetsoft of your palm)

until the sound of his voice
doesn't make your lips part like hungry roses,
until the idea of his breath,
ghosting softly over your cheek,
can't make you crumble anymore.
no. it's so easy, so simple.
it's only a few more turns of the clock hands,
only another spin of the earth -
and then you'll be okay.
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 9 7
Literature
this is what it feels like
when you look for love in other people's flesh-

search for it in the curve of their hips, the dip of their lips
the tightness of stomach and swell of their breasts

- it becomes almost too easy to forget
how quickly we rot,
how willingly our bones sink back into the cold embrace of earth
so simple to lose yourself in their meaningless touch.
but when you find love in someone's soul,

hear it in the drumbeat of their heart,
the sigh in their breath or sound of their steps
(and you breakshiversnap because you'll bend,
every fucking time,
in any direction they ask you)

when you find love like that,
you never stop imagining exactly how empty
the blue of the sky would be
without them.  
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 17 10
Literature
ripples
how many ripples you can cause
in the ocean of someone's heart,
each person has a tidal system they must abide and sometimes,
(even though you know better than to fight the waves)
you can't help but fool yourself into thinking
you can dive a little deeper.
(even though you're running out of air already)

and i am already becoming an expert in
clasping my hands together just right
so that it feels like someone else's fingers
interlaced with mine,
i know how to drape one leg over the other
to make it seem as though it's your ankle touching my foot
i press my back to the pillow beside me,
pretend its more than
just my body warmth heating up the cave between the sheets.
but when i think about it,
i realize that i've known how to do this for a while;
this isn't some new skill i've acquired overnight, as though
the act of 'breaking up' has allowed me to master the art
of pretending not to feel alone.
and no matter how far into the depths you try to go,
sometimes you just pretend tha
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 9 1
Literature
The Fourteen Stages (revisited)
The Fourteen Stages of Dealing With Loss:
One. None of this can be true. I know you're a trickster, a jester, a comedian, and this is exactly the type of thing you'd pull. I know how it's supposed to work, and your departure - it doesn't happen like this.
Two. I am an empty house, with two cats left scratching at the door, waiting for you to return. There is nothing left for me. I am tired of crying in the corner of my closet, but time flies and flies and sometimes, I cannot wait for the clocks to stop ticking.
Three. Your hands are like magnets and I feel mine burn when you don't hold them. You are everything to me, your love more important than anything; I crave your acceptance and touch and laugh.
Four. I want to destroy everything you've ever touched. I want to watch you crumble because you deceived me, you made me think it was real. You told me you loved me, whispered out descriptions of our house when we grew up, what we would eat for breakfast,
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 8 0
Literature
i hope you read this
dear boy:
no matter how many roses crumble to ash,
i will still love their lingering scent.
no matter how quickly the birds fly from sight,
i still treasure the sound of their song.
do you see what i mean?
there is more to love than touch.
i cannot help that you are a live wire and each touch to my skin
is a shock that leaves me craving more.
you wield it against me
(and often)
but there are more sparks here than just body to body
- i think -
there is more to love than touch.
and perhaps my examples of building you an empire,
making you a king,
are a bit far-fetched and overused
but you know it's true when i say
i'll do anything you ask.
there are many things that fade with time or distance
but devotion isn't one of them,
unless you give me reason to leave.
and i will have reason if, to you,
there isn't more to love than touch.
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 8 8
Literature
i hate myself and you aren't helping
how do i tell you that you hurt me,
that every time you brush me off or mock me
or put someone else before me
you hurt me
how do i tell you without saying it in so many words?
it's painful because i would never;
i do everything in my power to avoid it
i say sorry first
i always want to be there
i do everything i can for you, everything you ask me to.
and yet you act the way you do.
it's like you're purposefully drifting away -
like a feather on the surface of a pond,
reaching for the other shore.
love is kisses and the scent of your skin and time spent together,
the feeling of your fingers entwined with mine,
seeing you smile when you show up at my door.
but love is meaning it, time after time,
no matter how repetitive the words or actions can get.
i still feel the sparks:
when you hold my hand,
when i look at you.
don't you?
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 9 3
Literature
011. Memory
he gave me letters and earrings and hugs
and the name of a really good pizza place to try someday
he gave me hopes and ideas
about what i would do and where i would go
and about how we'd always always be able to stay in touch
and then that someday came
the pizza wasn't that great,
i ripped up those letters
he took those earrings back and threw them away
all those false hopes and bad ideas
and a fleeting feeling of hugs that were given sparingly
and all those things he gave me,
i wouldn't mind forgetting all of them
as long as i never lose the memories i've made with you
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 7 3
Literature
it doesn't matter, i still get a shitty deal
i've always believed that the worst things happen
to the best people
but bad things also happen to people who deserve them
and to be honest, i can't decide which category i go in.
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 8 2
Literature
i don't want to lose the best thing in my life
i have written these words so many times
in so many different ways but
i have loved you for always, for so long, that i do not know
when it began -
there was no falling, no slip,
no descent into this madness -
there was only loving you
[subconsciously and unconsciously and wordlessly
until now]
it has been one year and eight months and fourteen days
and i had never expected this to happen.
how short six hundred twenty-five days seem when looking at it like this.
it isn't over, i hope it won't be over,
i am not yet prepared to unclench myself from you,
not yet.
i know what happens,
that absence makes the heart grow weaker -
fonder, but weaker -
and sometimes i will slip and you will slip and i am so afraid,
scared
of being alone again.
but please please
please tell me i won't be alone
even if you won't be there.
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 12 10
Literature
i would say my father is a war
war horse: one who has been through many battles, struggles, or difficult experiences.
one who has presumably triumphed and persevered through hardships.
i would say my father is a war horse but that is a failed symbol
because he has been dragged through the dirt as many times as this metaphor
i want to write in abstract like in a book of
contemporary poetry i bought over the summer;
it was all syllables and lines of punctuation repeated over and over
i want to write something that describes how i feel without saying a word that describes it -
like:
dust and ache and tired and bone and overflowing and lonely and fuck and    .
i want to write poems that have meaning without being cliche i want poems
that defy grammar and space and time because when someone reads them, they become me
i want someone to read this and know that right now
it is approximately 12:04am
and my ears are itchy and my eyes -
my eyes -
i feel a deer prancing behind my eyes, his heavy antlers pushing
agains
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 37 27
Literature
Pre-Valentine's Day
my heart beat like an ocean swell,
i exhaled and my breath smelled like bruise,
like silver,
like my lungs were tired of the weight, the air;
and when i blinked it became night, but
behind my eyelids stars were singing -
telling me to not to rip out my insides,
but i was trying to rid myself of you -
and in the end i shook with
just the effort of pretending not to be alone.
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl
:icon369dreamergirl:369dreamergirl 12 10
Everything in my gallery is Regina Sanchez Durst. (me)
All of it is my original work.
:icondonotuseplz::iconmyartplz:

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well i was going through my old journals and i found this silly little thing i did in 2011, but then i realized i had done it the year before as well? and it's strange to see how i've changed from then to now. 
so, the ones in brackets and italics are from 2010, and those in parentheses are from 2011. anything that hasn't changed from 2011 or 2010 will just not have anything italicized. 

* If I was a month, I would be: december [August]
* If I was a day, I would be: thursday [Tuesday]
* If I was a part of the day, I would be: very early in the morning, so early that it's still considered night (the second before the sun sets, and the world is bathed in gold)
* If I was a planet, I would be: neptune
* If I was a drink, I would be: Soy milk (vodka-spiked coke) [sparkling cider]
* If I was an animal, I would be: sloth (orca) [a wolf]
* If I was a stone, I would be: opal
* If I was a bird, I would be: hummingbird (raven) [a carrier pigeon]
* If I was a plant, I would be: redwood [a cherry tree]
* If I was a sound, I would be: a sigh (the sound of a stream babbling)
* If I was an element, I would be: fire [water]
* If I was a song, I would be: short skirt long jacket - Cake (Still Fighting It - Ben Folds) [Here Without You - 3 Doors Down or I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie]
* If I was a movie, I would be: Pay It Forward
* If I was a TV series, I would be: Doctor Who [Dead Like Me]
* If I was a book, I would be: kraken by china mieville (echo)
* If I was an instrument, I would be: piano [a violin]
* If I was a food, I would be: dark chocolate
* If I was a taste, I would be: bittersweet
* If I was a color, I would be: maroon (red or seraphim-blue)
* If I was a material, I would be: worn, soft cotton (silk)
* If I was a piece of clothing, I would be: a red skirt (a black dress)
* If I was a word, I would be:  (maybe or sometimes but not forever)
* If I was a body part, I would be: wow my 2010 knew where it's at, fingertips it is (hipbones) [fingertips]
* If I was a school class, I would be: history, because I am in the past.
* If I was a number, I would be: 7 [28]
  • Listening to: best of times - sage francis
  • Reading: homestuck
  • Playing: with you

Journal History

deviantID

369dreamergirl
Gina Durst
Artist | Student | Literature
Bangkok, Thailand.
Half-Filipino & Half-American.
On dA to get feedback and comments on my work.
A lot of the things I write about aren't true, or are half-truths, but the emotion that I'm trying to convey is only ever all me.


The loneliest people in the world we writers are.
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:iconmismafia:
MisMafia Featured By Owner Dec 21, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
GINAAA

I go to school with you :) but I aint tellin you who I am! im sure you know who I am though but I cant tell you cuz I have to keep my name a secret ;)
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:icon369dreamergirl:
369dreamergirl Featured By Owner Dec 29, 2013  Student Writer
Oh I know who you are, horse girl :P 
Good to see you on dA! :heart: hehe 
Reply
:iconmismafia:
MisMafia Featured By Owner Dec 29, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
haha Hi :D
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:iconvemodalen:
Vemodalen Featured By Owner Nov 17, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
:iconthxfavebubbleplz: >v<
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:iconninefiftin:
Ninefiftin Featured By Owner Oct 24, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday ^^
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:icon369dreamergirl:
369dreamergirl Featured By Owner Oct 28, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you so much! :meow: 
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:iconninefiftin:
Ninefiftin Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
You're very welcome !
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:iconblankaizabela:
blankaizabela Featured By Owner Oct 8, 2013  Professional Digital Artist
thank you for all favourites:)
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:icon369dreamergirl:
369dreamergirl Featured By Owner Oct 12, 2013  Student Writer
Of course, they were all very much deserved! Love your work :)
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:iconcamelopardalisinblue:
camelopardalisinblue Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you very kindly for the recent fav! :)
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