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Friday Night Features
Volume XLV
Friday Night Features is a weekly feature aimed at displaying
a cross section of the some of the most striking, entertaining
and fantastic literature, photography and artwork from across
deviantArt. Show your support by
ing this article andchecking out these amazing pieces. You may find someone
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Literature
TouchMy legs wrapped loosely
over your lap,
fingers weaving
with frantic wanderlust
through an intoxicating,
aromatic
thicket of tresses.
Longing to get lost,
yearning to yield,
craving to clutch your lips
to my pulsing, pounding chest.
ChairsThere's nothing quite so lonely,
As a row of empty chairs.
Left in an empty room
With no one sitting there.
There's nothing quite so hopeful,
As a row of empty chairs.
Standing there waiting
For the crowd to enter there.
There's nothing quite so cheerful,
As a row of empty chairs.
When the crowds start to come in
and fill them up again.
And the empty chairs,
Aren't empty anymore.
overlap.Built on half-beat bricks, blinking amazedly over and over:
such things tumbled in red and brown – you're over and over;
cry the words again – spilling louder! and louder! and still
pieces of mixed-up souls pile up in snow drifts over and over.
Tell me, have the brightly coloured letters crushed up in
your brain like powdered dreams, rattling inside over and over?
Yet, dusk screams from the outside, shrieking the insides up
like torn pieces of cloth, settling and falling, still over and over –
until, once the trees beam, twice the flowers bow, the tower-
tall stories reach up and nestle in your ear, over and over,
lik
shipwreckthe girl who watched the rain
wore a cherry red dress and
a painted smile;
bare thighs and sticky fingers,
she waited for her thin wrists to break
and for the pretty-eyed boys to
haunt her dreams;
through the darkness of the fog
she could see trembling leaves
and rattling windowpanes
and yet she did not care.
not for herself, not for the world.
not for lonely souls
not for the cowards or the whores.
she only knew one face.
eventually.i remember to use my voice only when i need it least.
stuttering, stammering, i am the suicidal yet soul bearing spitting out of syllables;
i choke.
sputum and spokes of cilia heavily coat every word being uttered by a mouth- yours.
A gaping hole i have often found myself lost and found in,
time and time again.
the laundry my sick, cyclical psyche impedes upon itself;
bleach self-medication must be provided accordingly.
we want so hard to believe there had never, ever, been stains;
we live placebo li(v)es.
i am residue of a bubbling cauldron morphed into an epic (yes, heroic in deed and love),
i spill over; fire fazed, i finally fa
AllergensA brush with toxin
busts skin,
swells eyes.
There's hay fever,
and pollen,
and then there was
me.
Creepers clasped-
snapped the oak,
split the elm's heart.
Roots like piano wire
strangled lilies,
throttled tulips.
Moss assaulted,
smothered the surface,
rotted the core.
Lips to the bark,
I cracked,
scattered the leaves.
lunawe curl around this meaning of life
a fox tail, white
surrendering our
cleansed spirits
our elegiac eyes, pastel
blossom clutters our wrists
may i sugar your
eyelashes
bath water seeping and hushing
ambered and soften
we lay
and turn to the grass stems,
the daisies hiding
sweetly, closing rose kissed veins
knuckles frosted
and i kiss your
cooling eyelids
and curl around your open palm
clouded
air soft
whimper, whisper lilac song
ErrI strip
Skin.
The kitchen
Sink has
A polish of
Uneaten silt.
On the stove
Are stains of
Restraint:
Yolk, balsamic
Vinaigrette, cheap
Pomegranate tea.
The kettle eyes me
Heedlessly, fuming.
I think briefly about
Magnets— oppo-
Sites attracting—
And cannot
Conclude
If the scale is
Tipped in my favor
Or reads Err.
Tongue-Tied Love.Some nights
worms eat across my brain.
I bask in the shameful glory,
of pulling scabs off heartache.
And yet;
this habitual nature defines me.
Eyes affixed to sunless skies,
I no longer find comfort in looking away.
Some days are spent watching the sunshine pass me by.
Dawn.
Dusk.
Darkness.
I wish I could shut my eyes,
But I've been staring void for so long,
this sticky guilt,
it measures in tons.
It hurts to speak at times.
No words can do you justice,
when everything you know
is makeshift.
so,
I just move on.
Maybe
comic relief was never present,
and opportunity avoids my threshold,
like the plague.
Its hard to sp
Crack your jawThe hills behind us,
Are lit up in magnified stars.
And we're high above Saturday night,
You're touching the top of the sky.
I look out across the valley,
At that distant red light,
And I feel the chill in my ribcage.
But you put your warm arms on me.
You bite my lip,
And for that moment,
We're a stillframe, all orange and white orbs,
That's how I knew, this night won't ever end.
The night wind is cold now,
Colder than it was the first time,
But you said that your bed was warmer.
And that made me smile to myself.
I took the ring from my nose,
And set it down, no interruptions.
Your rhinestone eyes glint in the light,
From t
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