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About Deviant Artist jewlee bonesFemale/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
The Garden Poem
In the garden,
she would sit for hours combing her hair
    praying that spring would bloom again inside her.
 The weight of winter
    compressing her bones into sedimentary rock.
She could make a home for herself there beneath the Daffodils
 and use snail shells to frame the doors and windows
    of her house made of broken clay and glass.
When it rained, she would lose her ankles in the mud
  and confess she could feel the Earth's heartbeat with toes wiggling.
Every evening,
 she would close her eyes and hum, tangling
    her fingers with tree roots. By morning, she would be covered
with dead leaves and the cocoons of caterpillars
   who grew tired of their homes.
 So they changed their shape and moved to a safer place
  to raise their children.
After years of growing out her hair,
and trading secret with Evergreens,
 she felt the soil had finally betrayed her.
Promising a Summer filled with young l
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Literature
antiques
She knew that moving too soon
would stir the rheumatism in his bones.
So she stayed in the same place
for two hours, listening
to his laborious breaths
rearranging the dust flecks
left on his lips from their kissless evenings.
He woke, coughing and crumbling.
She thought the effort would finally take him.
His eyes glazed by fading faces and promises made as a child.
He used to sing to her every morning.
Today, he strained to recognize her hands helping him out of bed.
For three days, he had called her Margret.
At the table, she answers the same questions
as the day before, and the day before, and every week before that.
Briefly, she considers replacing her name with a song bird or a Pop Idol,
but cannot bring herself to lie, knowing
how soon she may be forgotten.
Every evening she strokes his face
and whispers her wedding vows
as if they were a secret.
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:iconveo33:Veo33 2 2
Literature
Impossible
I dream of a woman
     with a stag's head.
Her wrist chained to her antlers.
   She parts her lips to speak
but          only whimpers
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:iconveo33:Veo33 1 2
Literature
Three two one
"I can't imagine." She says
     as if to herself.
I twist the lighter in my fingers
   and forget to say anything.
"I'm so sorry" and I can tell she is,
     but how can I respond to that?
There is a moment, where I look to the ocean
     and remember how it feels to drown.
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:iconveo33:Veo33 2 9
Literature
Haiku 099
We could get along
buried beneath the snow our
fingertips stretching.
:iconVeo33:Veo33
:iconveo33:Veo33 0 0
Literature
untitled
Your eyes are solar flares
reminding me
   you are a celestial being
   challenging God.
I pull your curls
and recognize the universe
   growing wildly, expanding
   an unimaginable distance.
On your lips are the cosmos
and each time we kiss
   you force super novas
   into my chest.
Until all the glitter and gold
inside me explodes
   covering the world in stardust
   everyone confuses for snow.
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:iconveo33:Veo33 1 0
Literature
Haiku 100
everyone struggles
to keep their heads above the
water. it's futile.
:iconVeo33:Veo33
:iconveo33:Veo33 1 0
Literature
000
I lost my virginity
     in this room
and now I'm leaving
     for warmer shelters,
where you and I
     can sit in the windows
and become silhouetted embryos.
:iconVeo33:Veo33
:iconveo33:Veo33 0 0
Literature
.
The first time you saw
the sun it must have taken
your smile away.
I think you swallowed
it whole your insides must be
burning. I'm sorry.
Not even the rain
could wash away the blisters
forming in your throat.
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:iconveo33:Veo33 2 4
Literature
..
You don't look happy
We could be miserable
  together, maybe.
:iconVeo33:Veo33
:iconveo33:Veo33 2 0
Literature
...
I've been listening through
     these walls
               so long.
We've formed an intimate
     relationship.
A sensual embrace
     the plaster, and my face.
I've heard murmurs I've
     mistaken as heartbeats.
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:iconveo33:Veo33 2 4
Literature
starving
My whole life
     I wanted
   to inspire.
Being an artist is
     a unique form of
   torture.
It takes a certain
     audience to keep
   you alive.
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:iconveo33:Veo33 3 4
Literature
reaching
If the trees had their way
   our arms would be stretching
extending for miles
   till our fingers fell off.
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Literature
expanding
"I don't belong in this age."
      We all seem to say.
Well where do you think
                    you were
before now?
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:iconveo33:Veo33 2 6
Literature
sequin
My body shivers
as if I miss you. Sometimes,
you really seem gone.
:iconVeo33:Veo33
:iconveo33:Veo33 4 3
Literature
Quiescent
I can imagine
you resting peacefully, you
look just like a child.
Cradled in your arms
are pieces of me you still
yearn to remember.
Dust settles over
your body, like snowflakes on
my own weary corpse.
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:iconveo33:Veo33 3 8
:icondonotuseplz::iconmyartplz:
Everything in this gallery is me, julie dressler. (unless credited otherwise.)
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"It's a PSP"
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Where sex is just a verb beneath your blistered skirt
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And tickled red flesh glances
Leather platforms hug your heels
As your life is wasted on smoky disco dance floors
So you can scratch his eyelids all night
And he can touch you just right
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Dont forget
Don't you forget about me!!
"Don't you forget about me" was the last thing you said,
"Why would I forget you? Are you going to be dead?"
I'm sitting in your room looking down on you,
Asking you "what is it you want me to do"?
I'm sitting here, waiting for something to come clear,
You know I don't want to lose you, you're too dear.
And again you smile and look at me, saying "you will see".
"Just promise you would never forget about me!"
"Don't you forget about me", I can't stop thinking,
Suddenly I feel my heart sinking.
"Don't you dare do it" I say in a hiss,
"You are not going to leave me like this.
You sit up in your bed and begging me to come close,
I hesitate so you start pulling on my clothes.
I come closer and sit on the bed, looking at you a bit upset,
You pull me closer starting to sweat.
You hold my face close to yours and say in a whisper "don't forget".
I try to sit back but you wouldn't let me go yet.
Your hands are on my cheeks and you're staring at me.
Am I so stupid? Is
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Activity


deviantID

Veo33
jewlee bones
Artist
United States
A dead girl walking.
To die without leaving a corpse.

Current Residence: no where, now.
MP3 player of choice: cocksmoker.
Skin of choice: the kind that doesn't perpetually shiver.
Interests
(Scene)

Our plans are to
give a new vision
for the future.

We will have success
and be able to sleep
                    tonight.

Two months,
                     two hours,
                                       success.
------------------------------------------
(The Face Upon The Floor)

You laugh though
                              you never held a soul.
My voice cracked.
                            Give me whiskey,
I'll tell you a funny story.
                                         I promise.

I want some life, whiskey too.

I'd like to tell you how to be dirty.
I was a man,
                     I was a painter.
I was hard,
                   I made a picture.
------------------------------------------
(The Face Upon The Floor v.2)

God bless you,
No I can't do that.
My throat's worn out.
I tell you what...
Give me another drink.
  • Drinking: paint.

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