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LegacyI left your eyes by your bedside table darling. They're yours to collect and I am sorry for having to leave without saying goodbye, but the carriage wouldn't wait. Best not to say goodbye, it's wrong to say goodbye before ever really saying hello, but sometimes it's best not to look for buried treasure, regardless of where the crying children point.
I lie here naked, skin green and purple from sickness and violence. I have little modesty left as I watch myself grow thin, but I will fight on. That's what I was born to do, isn't it? Isn't that what you raised me to be? My hands slide over almost forgotten metal and ancient dreams, not truly knowing my own name anymore as I find myself asking which one is the shadow and which one can only be seen with five hands underwater. My muscles twitch each time you get too close, for you are everything I could ever hope for and everything I can never have. I'd kill you, but only after destroying you.
I see the corridor of Angels again, but through
Stop the truth from leaking.Fake a smile. Just once. Would you kill me if I said it would make my day? Some things are better left unsaid or denied, even to you my love. Brown and silver are not my normal colours of choice, but you seem to be breaking alot of my rules. I'd pierce my tongue to stop you coming any closer, though I'd whisper a riddle to make you wonder. I can see myself in your beautiful eyes, hesitant and unsure of how to act around you. I will not take up the makeup, for then I will be left without a face. Would you love me if I was nameless and faceless? I'd be little more than a shadow.
I see them dancing on the floor again as I begin to fear for the future. 'I am not I, therefore you might not be you'. A lesson I cannot forget, but it warns me that I cannot fully trust you since I am also lying. The truth would devastate you my love, you see me how you want to see me and I cannot bring myself to shatter the illusion that I am less than a toy boat and a glass bottle. Careful, I break easily- han
The Wind on the Water.If I lie still for long enough, I can feel the wind on the water brushing past my face. The sunlight has long since burnt out my eyes, but no matter. I have learnt to see you in fleeting dreams and raindrops in the moonlight. Most importantly, I see you in my reflection. Through a ray of violet light, I can almost feel you near me when I touch the surface of the water. Silence. Am I still breathing? It's so peaceful here. If you could find me an ocean in a bottle, I'd bring you to me and we'd sail away around the glass.
Although such a thing can never be, I still smile under the rushes whenever I think of you. You are happy as you are, on land, still breathing. I won't interfere. Yet you remain one of the only people to have noticed my body floating in the water. You cared that much. That is all I ask for.
How long have I been here? I broke your ribs and your arms, even erased bits of your memory. This is revenge, nay justice as the Nameless would see it dealt. I close my eyes as the s
Another Hundred PeopleChatter. I hear my name mentioned a thousand times a day, but I am never truly sure if it is to me or at me. There isn't much of a difference anymore. You aren't listening and I have already forgotten your name. I'd forget mine too if I didn't hear it so often. Nowadays I just want to blow out the candles. Shhhh. Happy Birthday my love. We'll celebrate together in peace one day. Maybe then they'd leave us alone. I only want to talk to the people who I needn't say a word too. Don't make a sound. They just know. You just know. I just know. Subtlety is finest in the glint of an eye.
I heard they found the invisible man, which is a shame really since he didn't want the attention. We enjoy being cellophane, for we are the Nameless. This much attention is not in our nature. We like to watch from shadowing sunsets, long tall and hunched. We ask for little more, only to be remembered. It is important we are not forgotten, as you are only truly dead when no one alive remembers you.
I miss my Su
Waking subconcious.I am always tired. My recent transformation confirms my previous musing of I am not I, therefore you might not be you. I am not Roulin and neither are you, but someone has to be. Everyone has to be something. These new, clean walls intrigue me, for I am not used to the light. Light is love. I have become love. Love is light. Violet light would consume me were I fictional. Instead, I simply enjoy the sights I do not recognise, for there are no ghosts where there are no memories. I can still hear them though and they call to me and calm me as they have always tried to do. I cherish the little comfort I can take from this and notate each blue and green flightpath as you would have me do. I strike out each horror with a matchstick, just to watch them curl up and fade.
You brought me peace and hope. I know so many who will never understand either of these things. The truth is I pity those who do not understand what hope is. To hope is to seek comfort and there is nothing wrong with that. Th
A night with HazeFox Black is busy tonight, too busy to keep an eye on Haze. The media are looking for the bounty hunter 'Smokescreen', too busy and too stupid to realize that she is Haze. Haze slips out of her apartment window as she often does at midnight, dark glasses and painter mask hiding her face from unwelcome eyes. Gliding down, Jetta, her prize sword sings to her.
"Leave a mark, never forgetting," She sings from her harness.
Haze stays silent. Within seconds she is on the roof of the hospital only half a mile from her apartment and she knows her prey is inside. He calls himself messiah but she knows he is not. The masses and media follow like the brainless morons they are. False Idol!
"If there is to be a neo Christ, it is not the son of vanity." Fox had said bluntly. Haze knew Fox would be furious when she found out. Bah, she can deal with Fox Black later, this was more important. She slides inside a balcony window and recognizes the well groomed face of Alec Zebros, the man who calls himsel
Vigilante.City lights crossfade with the morning sun. I have been watching the city from the top of the hill all night and yet I am still not satisfied. Gentle ticking and soft hush of blurred human voices are the only music I listen to all night, even if silence is my only peace. The odd whisper of prayer can be heard above the horrid screams of the children haunted by nightmares that even I cannot calm. Those who still pray to a God rely on hope, precious hope. I am not one of them. Hope is useless on it's own. I have seen too much, came back from living in sweet dreams though I was told I would be broken for ever. Yet I am alive and have been given the duty to fly through the skies of those who are in danger of being lost.
Lost.. let human minds wander too far into what they do not understand and the rest will deem it as nonsense. Once the spoken word was enough but distrust has built even further with advances in technology and now we must prove the unprovable to further accepted knowledge.
Accept mutilations for art.Look at me. This is a comfort to me since I can no longer look at you. I am almost blind and yet I see the night. Quiet! do not disturb. The children sleep and in some way I wish I was their mother. Could I offer them what I never was? I wish I was a child. Peaceful. Hypnotized. Ignorant. Happy. Nectar shouldn't be so sweet, tangy and fulfilling. I have come this far only to learn that the fools are in bliss. They have no need for nectar. These idiots who parade around worrying about the world they will never even leave a dent upon, not a scratch. Hush children, keep the silence. You do not need to speak we will understand your every gesture by counting the drip, drip, drips of the of the nectar flowing from the knife edge.
This clock is broken. It no longer ticks. No more breathing. Still. It sounds so wonderful now but you have a role to play now don't you? Yes, Guardian once again I am addressing you. Like it or not you must go through with this even though you and I both know you h
A moment of retrospect.Each time you turn you see a thousand masqueraders taunting you. You're used to it by now of course. Can you see me dancing? I forget sometimes you don't recognise me anymore. It's okay, I'll pretend to be invisible just for you. We left this behind a long time ago, but if it's worth anything I think of you now and then and wonder what kind of person you are now. Through torn memories I know you must have been special because I wrote you a song once, but the words have been torn out of my skull. There was something about violet flowers, flowers if only to match your name. I think we may never talk again, but that doesn't bother me. I wonder why you have done this to yourself, you were so beautiful. Perhaps to you this is beautiful? Nay, I preferred you then. We have both moved on to dance with new, much more skilled partners, but I'll look back at you from time to time. I'd like to think you look back too, to see if i'm there, to see if you could try to kill me.
I'd be wrong. My name i
Dear deviantART: Free The Author
In a world as colorful, diverse, unique and beautiful as it is today, I’ve learned through my 10 months on this website that many people enjoy expressing themselves in many different ways when it comes to art.
Whether it be through romance, nature, darkness, light or everything else there is to express with, it becomes even more interesting when I see the people express themselves with so many different mediums.
Myself? I enjoy expressing my artistic abilities through many mediums: Digital art, poetry, but most avidly, the xReader fandoms. Avengers, Sherlock, Free!, Shingeki no Kyojin and many, many others.
99% of my stories are romantic. I love to write romance, though I usually don’t take it much further than a little something like a sweet little kiss, the beginning of a new relationship, a baby being born, or occasionally, the odd sexual innuendo. Once, I tried writing a lemon. However it didn’t work out very well, and I decided to remove it for personal reasons.
My ConfessionI never really thought about my lack of sexual interest before society confronted me with it.
It took me quite a while to notice guys as anything more than "other people", and when I did, it was more a group pressure thing than real interest.
I even had a boyfriend then, but not because I particularly liked the guy. Having a boyfriend in your teens is a status symbol. Have one, you're cool, have none, you're not.
Of course, back then things weren't that clear to me. I went with the flow.
For a very long time, I wondered what is wrong with me that I don't enjoy sex, that It makes me feel awkward and that I have no desire to go out and date. Society made me believe it is wrong to be like that. I was ashamed of myself, of my flaws and my obvious failure of being a full-fledged human being.
You define yourself through others. You try to figure out who you are, and you look at others for guidance, for something you can identify with. But you only limit yourself with that, and not finding si
Bullying, a brief storyI always knew I was off, that there was something wrong with me. Elementary school was a wild ride, with no friends, funny nicknames, and even beatings. My nickname, was "It". At that time I didn't know there was any other sexuality other than straight. I didn't know that happened. However, I still admired my same-sex friends, I thought they were pretty, and I wanted to kiss them as much as the opposite gender.
I was pushed off of rock walls, slides, I had basketballs, dodgeballs, footballs, thrown at my head, I was tripped kicked and punched, the nurse knew me by name.
I didn't understand why it was happening, I didn't understand anything. I legit had to make a hula hoop be my best friend, and I'm not even joking.
It wasn't until I started reading the bathroom walls, the backs of whiteboards in class, graffiti on the playground, that I understood. Everyone assumed I was gay, and they wrote stories about me everywhere. Doing things I wasn't old enough to know about yet. The opposite ge
droplets to dropI think I imagined my life.
One prayer spent, an angel held my mind and supported its weight... offered to steal me away in the 8th grade despite the fact I'd let him down in ridicule and silence. In that moment, I believed in God.
but God existed in everything and nothing, and it became hard deciphering the holy from the chosen. So I dined with sin one night when her lips were too sweet and I was too caged; she'd put her nails inside my poet lines, with a sadness too familiar I could only choke on disappointment.
A white-out later--lips left only a little less swollen than the eyes--I was hoping I was simply malnourished in weak-spirit... but you showed me it was a plague in man, a Passover of none, and the scream I let go strangled the last of hope in me.
the things that we take, to make us feel.i tried to keep you a part of myself for as long as i could. but like everything in my life, it crumbled and dissovled and all i ended up left with was all your bad habits and self destruction. dont get me wrong, if i had a choice between nothing, and putting cigarettes out on the palms on my hands the way you taught me, or drinking my coffee black and gritty, i'll take the later every time. (nothing hurts about the same)
cause the only thing i've learned in my 21 years on this planet is that you're always told its going to be be 'okay.
that time heals all the crap that you're feeling right now, and that you have to not dwell on things so much, but i'm not dwelling, i'm holding onto the things that kept me breathing, cause i dont know if i can live without them anymore.
i am so fucking reliant on my crutches, and i can feel them being ripped from underneath me and i dont know how to get back up. my bones arent strong enough to be on their own to hold all this pressure. and i just want
What Happened To Deviant art?Back when i joined i loved this place. Yeah i was a kid back then, and i do see things under a different light now that I'm older. But lately DA seemed to be...Ebbing. And i don't think its the fault of the people that runs this site either. In my opinion its the fault of the degenerates that decide to either troll, steal art, or step on others for no real reason. But now I'm hearing talk of actual pedophiles on this site...i know many people probably already knew about this but this was news to me. And i know that every site i go on may have pedophiles on it and that this is "the internet"...some place where people continue to browse their favorite sites thinking that their completely "anonymous". Your not by the way. But even before this talk it seemed like this site was slowly gaining a population of people that only wants fame. I will admit that fame would be nice for all of us. But people nowadays don't understand what i few nice comments on a picture can do to someones confidence
Never Become Like MeWHAT INSPIRED ME TO CREATE THIS PIECE!
"Creating things is an amazing thing. it’s amazing to see what other people are doing, to see the inner workings of someone else’s brain, but in their own style. and if you want to do it, you just go for it. you try. you have to try. ” ~PJ Liguori (KickThePJ) (I'm not scared video)
I am only a young girl, destined to work until my body begins to fade from the earth.
I am only a fragment of the country that floats on the body of water that blankets the world.
I am a person with feelings towards many things. Some things I love so much that I would protect them, even if protecting them cost my own tiny life. Some things I despise so much that I would toss them into the flames that younger children admire so much that they utter words in a melodic fashion around it... And I would watch it burn...
Most days I wake up, I put on my clothes and I venture towards a place which I am forced to endure for six painful hours. I sit on one of t
DecayI feel dead,
Inside and out.
My skin becomes ashen,
Bones become brittle as they crumble.
My skin starts to tighten.
I start to breathe in small shallow gasps,
As the walls start to close around me.
I start to tremble,
My eyes begin to drain of color,
Until they become dull and monotone.
My skin starts to evaporate,
I choke on air as I lose my skin.
My eyes roll back until my eyes become that of a zombie...
Emotionless and soulless...
And in this seat I have become brittle,
A decaying skeleton,
Just a simple white and broken endoskeleton...
Inside and out...
Inside the VaseThe vase stands there
Cold and firm.
It doesn't make a move.
No one knows.
The vase is pushed
Maybe there was nothing inside.
I am the vase.
I try to put back my pieces with glue.
I guess I finally cracked.
Through all the little cracks
There was water inside.
Round and round the garden..Sing to me and hold me until I go to sleep. That's a test of loyalty if ever there was one, for I am gathering dust upon layers of false chintzy cheeriness and glittery clothes. Look at me. To you I will always be that child, but to her I am that shadow whose name she can't quite remember, but does it matter? Green and purple became me, but I look at you and see nothing but a vorpal grin. Tick-tock, tick-tock! We are shadow people now, you and I. They will soon forget us and soon pass us by in the street, unsure if we were ever acquainted. I'm only 5 years old, or so they keep telling me. I'll clap my hands and giggle as we slowly tear the skin off of each others faces, because it's nothing more than a game and we'll be home in time for tea. Don't worry, we'll burn the photographs- just in case. History is there to be rewritten, isn't it darling?
The first Roulin stays strong in my dreams. Wherever I go, I see her face and I am unable to rest. She is no longer Mother, figure I bow down
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More