| Primarily I'm a poet, but I do write some fantasticly creeptacular prose every other blue moon. And yes there are pictures, but they're not of the best quality. (I totally put all the blame on my scanner. Even if it's really not its fault.) ;D |
Newest
And it was gone__ And these visions die before us, like annuals in fall. They're stolen like breaths of wind on the most silent night of all. And so these thoughts took flight. They were painted with colours so bright. They were cast into the light and withered on mere sight. __ Despair had more hope, than with what we had to cope. Here we are this ruined place, death, despair etched on your face. Here we are embrace the cliché. Tell me the only thing you can say. Tell me lies, say "all is okay."And it was gone
by ~Marie-from-the-dust
My Scarlet LetterThis blazing scarlet letterMy Scarlet Letter
Doesn’t set my face a flame Rather it burns through my veins Where I have no shame
It curls the corners of my lips And laugh with devious pleasure I strut instead of walk Holding my sinful treasure
They will never hear My dirty little secret They’ll just think I’m innocent My falsehood holds no regret
by ~Marie-from-the-dust
Favourites
My realitySometimes when the lights fade into the darkness I feel my thoughts slip off the edge into an alternate universe. There, life doesn't exist in a superficial form Instead it consists of pure beauty and cohesive patterns of happiness. Unlike the discomfort of what we perceive to be real this world is kind and calm and safe. There is no extinction or pain or fear only comfort and utter content. The world that I envision cannot possibly exist. I close my eyes and drift into a nightmarish sleep. The world is a messed up place and we live the consequences of past generations. KMy reality
by ~AutumnRelives
psalms written by palmsCecil spoke with his hands, and when he did, it looked like magic. I was always stumbling for words while he made them out of thin air, shaping molecules into sounds so quiet they could only be seen. I wanted my fingers to dance like his, but they felt clumsy and heavy. But he always smiled when I tried, and his hands smiled back.psalms written by palms
There were nights when the only way I could speak was in sideways glances, and his fingertips would whisper secrets across my collarbone, always slow and soft and quiet.
On the beach, he presses his palm to mine in a classic and immediately intimate gesture. I use my hands to sculpt sandca
by *FriedPickles
Sastielby ~DrowArtist009
Missionby *andi3olotic
Squeee!!!!!
Tired
deviantID
| I'm a fifteen year old force of nature and a weak young girl. I'm a harsh unforgiving gale and a gentle lapping of waves. I'm the shadow in nightime Sicly and the wonderous green light from the trees on the Appalachians. I am the freedom of dancing in the rain and the spark that lights wild fire. |
Devious Info
- Current Residence: somwhere in the labrynth that is my mind
- Print preference: Hey I'm happy if the freaking paper prints at all.
- Interests: wrting, reading, doing idiotic things...
- Favourite movie: Titanic, Phantom of the Opera, and the James Bond movies
- Favourite band or musician: Paramore, Evanescence, Mozart, Billy Joel, and Rob Thomas.
- Favourite genre of music: Punk Rock, Rock, Classical, and random Techno stuff.
- Favourite artist: Monet
- Favourite poet or writer: Emily Dickinson
- Favourite photographer: My counsin Kasha
- Favourite style of art: Abstract
- Operating System: The O.R. tehe
- Shell of choice: Ooooo fan shells. They're the bests!
- Favourite game: Man Hunt
- Favourite cartoon character: Zuko.... Lols
- Personal Quote: Actions speak louder than words, yet speaking is an action.
- Tools of the Trade: pen, stationary, and an inanimate object to yell at when I screw up.
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--
Society is a masked ball, where every one hides his real character, and reveals it by hiding.
[Ralph Waldo Emerson]
--
It's not merely a chior: it's many beautiful gleaming threads of sound coming together to weave something so profoundly magical that its presense can only grace existence once.
--
Society is a masked ball, where every one hides his real character, and reveals it by hiding.
[Ralph Waldo Emerson]
--
It's not merely a chior: it's many beautiful gleaming threads of sound coming together to weave something so profoundly magical that its presense can only grace existence once.
Glad you liked it.
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Hey come on now. My characters aren't all that bad. Most of them are just very corrupt, opportunistic, and self-motivated beyond definition.
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It's not merely a chior: it's many beautiful gleaming threads of sound coming together to weave something so profoundly magical that its presense can only grace existence once.
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"You can't fail if you never give up."
'keep wispering your heartdreams, cause you'll never know when your angel is listening ....'
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What exists in a word, a letter, and in three; is asked too little and too much, yet is a building block of life and an enduring mystery? Give up? Why? Why is it that no one notices? No one thinks? Because nobody ever cares about the 'why' of the matter.
--
It's not merely a chior: it's many beautiful gleaming threads of sound coming together to weave something so profoundly magical that its presense can only grace existence once.
--
What exists in a word, a letter, and in three; is asked too little and too much, yet is a building block of life and an enduring mystery? Give up? Why? Why is it that no one notices? No one thinks? Because nobody ever cares about the 'why' of the matter.
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