EternalSunday

life based on a true story

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reductionism by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

reductionism

1. it makes more sense as a clear cut divide, a neatly drawn line between the one and the other, like oil and water refusing to merge. but truth refuses to simplify itself to suit our whims - it won't bend or break no matter how hard we hammer at it, no matter how much sweat gathers at our brows while we try to reason with it, (while we plead for mercy.) 2. in mirrors i'm faced with two distinct entities forced to occupy the same tumultous space, mind and body hunched in opposite trenches, forever at the brink of war. but in reality. i am not something that can be cut apart so easily. and i know this. i know this. yet the reflection lingers behind my eyelids as if promising triumphant battle. 3. there is no before and after, no sharp contrast that marks peace from war - nor even a timelapse of shifting moments connecting past to present. instead, it all intertwines into a web of tangled knots that i struggle to locate myself within. i ask myself - when did

the recipe to foresight by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

the recipe to foresight

it takes three voices to weave fate, but only one to forge a chain of actions and reactions, all of their interactions, melted down and reduced to their lasting consequences. then melded shut and looped together, laying out a trail, a trail i'm set to follow, leading to my jail. no silken threads, no breadcrumb trail, but a prisoner's parade, marching to the guillotine in the very chains i made.

transition by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

transition

i. i'm sitting in a doctor's office, and he wants to see my past and present connected by a trail of bread crumbs - the story of my life as a linear narrative. but i can't reach back and pull forth an unbroken thread that justifies my present - i can't pick it all apart and reassemble it as it was. yet he demands proof, and i'll give it to him. i'll give it to him. for the future, i'll do anything (it's beyond simple longing, it's beyond hope - it's the only thing that makes the next breath worth taking). so i make my truth fit into his notebook, i cut and paste the moments until they fit together and show a picture of my past th

restless pulse, empty hands by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

restless pulse, empty hands

my fingers drum an off-beat rhythm across every unfinished thing i've left in my wake. my touch is like the flicker of an eyelid, too fast to be captured unless you're watching for it and i'm never steady enough to grasp anything with my clumsy hands and frantic mind. (i can't hold on to anything, i only reach and keep reaching). there's a beating my heart as well, spreading through my body until i'm bouncing in my seat, breaking skin as my teeth try to hold on to my lips. blood drips down my chin but the beating still persists, i'll never go slow enough for this i'll never find a rhythm that lets me exist.

loss by EternalSunday, literature

dogma by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

dogma

you belong to symmetry, to the age-old art of losing yourself in patterns so vast they surpass every doubt in the universe. when your truth took shape, it was a bubbling heat coagulating into solid coils of steel. (it sealed up the fear in your skin, like scabs, but it's an itch you can't scratch if you want your new reality to stay intact.) you belong to symmetry, to the endless spirals of sameness, of loyalty and trust - of never asking a single question ever again.

like so many grains of sand by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

like so many grains of sand

i can't recreate that passive longing, that solemn sea-breeze pain that seemed to stretch out forever (it must have grown since before i knew you were there). no matter how much distance i covered i was always led back here - i'd known, but forgotten a million times - that a circular path will never reach the atmosphere. you were too far away to slip through my fingers, i only ever touched air, and the scent from the breeze i inhaled - it curled into my chest, then disappeared.

stasis snare by EternalSunday, literature

strange object by EternalSunday, literature

some poems shouldn't be named by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

some poems shouldn't be named

i. every time i sit down and try to chisel this pain and guilt into something less sharp, it multiplies instead, poking at my skin from all angles until i'm ready to burst, ready to splatter all over the walls into a million, tiny little pieces. i wish i could make what you did to me as small as one of those fragments, whittle it down until it means nothing to me, until the thought of you doesn't leave me with this desperate, seething numbness. ii. but the reminders of that moment are glued to the inside of my eyelids - it only takes blinking and i'm powerless again. every time i forget to keep my eyes open, the guilt gains another

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reductionism by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

reductionism

the recipe to foresight by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

the recipe to foresight

transition by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

transition

restless pulse, empty hands by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

restless pulse, empty hands

loss by EternalSunday, literature

dogma by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

dogma

like so many grains of sand by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

like so many grains of sand

stasis snare by EternalSunday, literature

strange object by EternalSunday, literature

some poems shouldn't be named by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

some poems shouldn't be named

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this is why i have a serpent tattoo by the-chemical-factory, literature

Mistaken Confidant by Tiger--eyes, literature

Literature

Mistaken Confidant

In spring, I watched the bullet holes in the concrete Wondering where the camo skirts had gone Sometimes I dreamt of another snow, Another bout of colic, Another wilted wedding ring. I watched the leaves bloom through the window 19 at a time, the rest a dream away from sleep. I remembered the secret confidence The way the ripped skin felt again. Again. In the spring, I knew the laughs would follow The running brook and autumn bridge. I knew the promise would be broken And that the trust would never mend.

Amniotic by Moonbeams, literature

Literature

Amniotic

We fall back to our ocean at night -- the years slowly rocking out of sequence, a sandbar of figures and faces that don't belong, places colliding without a crash in an Escher print of time -- no wonder memories are as fragile as froth fighting to hold its shape against a rock lodging bits of itself into scenes replayed long before their inception as I never question the steadiness of you throughout it all knowing without knowing that all that matters here are the roles we meet each other as filling the pits, and spaces as they need, as deep as the heaviness of a blanket's lean into the heart, the steepness of static falling f

The Detriment of Sleep by blinklessINK, literature

Deviation Spotlight

we should celebrate by EternalSunday, literature

Literature

we should celebrate

i. i tried to think of pain as a flower, first it blossoms and then it wilts away. but i won't let myself disappear along with it, i won't give you that. (it's not the agony that makes me scream, it's the flavor). ii. and you whispered softly "i'll rip your heart out and replace it with a song, it's christmas soon, and we should celebrate". you've always used my scars as a calendar, as a way to remind yourself "today is tuesday and i still exist". iii. (it's morning now because i can see the sunlight through my eyelids and imagine

we should celebrate

EternalSunday

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About EternalSunday

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

Sweden
Deviant for 13 years
He / Him

My Bio

Hello!
I'm an amateur writer of both fiction and poetry, though most of the work found here is of the latter. I started writing poetry when I was about 16 years old and needed an outlet to express myself. I was fairly active here for a few years, but then I took a break and didn't write much at all for a pretty long time. I kept this account as an archive of my work, and thought it would stay dormant forever.

But now I'm getting back into poetry again. My inspiration comes and goes, and so will my presence here. But I guess I have something to express again, so I'm here again, for now.

Favourite Movies

Star Wars, District 9

Favourite TV Shows

The Get Down, Brooklyn 99, Leverage, Criminal Minds,

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nine Inch Nails, Radical Face, Glass Animals, Mother Mother

Favourite Books

Ancillary Justice, Cloud Atlas, The God of Small Things, Harry Potter, The Martian

Favourite Writers

Ann Leckie, N.K Jemisin, T.S Eliot

Favourite Games

Dragon Age: Origins, The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Fallout: New Vegas, Mass Effect, Dishonored, Firewatch

Favourite Gaming Platform

Other Interests

Magic the Gathering, tabletop roleplaying, drawing

Posts

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EternalSunday

Sep 23, 2017

Daily Deviation!

0 min read

When I logged in to dA tonight I wasn't expecting to find out that my little poem transition had gotten a DD! Honestly, I felt somewhat insecure about posting it in the first place, because it's the first time I truly wrote about my transition. I've touched on the subject before, but never gone into my own story in a deeper sense. Doing so left me feeling a bit vulnerable, in a way that simply talking about it usually doesn't. But I decided it was worth posting it anyway, in case someone in similar circumstances might find it helpful in some way. In the beginning of my own transition, I needed the stories of other trans people to help me fig

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EternalSunday

Feb 12, 2017

Turns out, I'm not gone

0 min read

I recently went back and changed my profile to say that its currently more of an archive of my previous work than an active account. I think I'm going to have to change that again, because I've been writing more poetry again, and rather than just sitting on it I've published it. It's not as frequent as back in the day, but it's not quite true that this account is mostly dead. I'm going to try to get back into reading and commenting what other people write as well, but I'm studying at university now and my free time is limited, so we'll se how that goes. Anyway! I have no idea if the people I follow and who followed me are still around, but a

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EternalSunday

Sep 10, 2013

Small update

0 min read

It seems like more time passes between every journal entry,and I almost always start off by saying I'm sorry for my inactivity. Well here I go again. Sorry. I still won't promise to be more active here, for it to be fun I need to actually want to. Not sure if I do, but I also haven't written any poetry as of late, and it feels sort of pointless to hang around here without contributing. I will try to get through all of your deviations when I can, but my inbox is kind of clogged and I don't always have the time or patience to sort through it. But I do have some news. I'm writing a novel right now, or well I'm starting one. It's for a school