|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
SympathyThere was a man yesterday at my window
Asking me why his wife had left him.
Opened the window,
Put my hands on his face,
And snapped his neck
“If you had only told her how much you loved her,
She could have given you all you wanted and more”
Me and You, Yesterday You asked me about my life yesterday, and at the time I wasn't really able to respond truthfully. Well, here you go: the complete and total truth (because I literally have nothing better to do).
Two days ago I enlisted myself in a 10 day insomnia research project to see if it would somehow help me wake me up to the reality of the world (ha, ha, see what I did there?). I don't know why; I don't even suffer from insomnia. Really, my enlistment in the program is like a giant dick up the ass of the research facility. They have to deal with assholes like me all the time. I guess I really don't care anymore- when they find out I don't qualify I'll probably be too far into the study for them to take any legal action. Even if I don't finish the study I still get a stipend. That's a consolation, I guess.
The thing that keeps me up at night isn't really insomnia, it's my over analytical thought process. I have an obsession with the human condition- with eyes especially
LinearLife seems to move in a
Linear direction in
From brights to black.
It turns greyer every day
Like your hair will do;
Like your sight will do
Where are we now?
Can we point on a palate?
On a page?
When we run our fingers through
The braile-stained book of life
We flip the switch, close the door, and
Try to sleep through the darkness.
I think that our days are
Darkened by insight
And pictures of long dead insects
I think that we believe
Our perfect wings to be broken.
Are we as old now at this moment
As we will ever be,
Or is everything happening…
I Know BetterShe whispers to me with her eyes when she thinks I'm not looking;
I'd say she hates me,
Steeping TeaThere is a place not too far from your
Mind’s eye where an alligator sits down
To enjoy the scenery. However, as he
Sits, the world begins to melt.
First go the trees, melting like little
Wax soldiers left out in the sun. The
Alligator doesn’t really mind. He is paying
Too much attention to the mouth forming
In the centre of a purple marsh.
As he watches, the mouth begins to swallow
The colour from the world. And it is
Painful, too. A million colours are gone now
As if they never existed, as if they were
Sucked from the flesh of imagination.
Finally the mouth opens to tell the alligator
Good morning, but the alligator is gone,
And the colourless sun has begun its descent.
Sleep DownWake up,
We can make breakfast in bed and
Weave together our calloused fingers
We can share our afternoons
Pretending like the world is made of diamonds
We can stay up late and
Laugh at those old nightime TV shows
Mr DeathMr. Death has got me by my teeth
WHY DON'T YOU RUN
WHY STOP NOW?
Do not dare to move a muscle.
Bottles and Demons“So tell us, where does this deep penchant for ‘pocket sized’ tales of horror and violence come from?” the reporter inquired, pen poised and ready.
Her interviewee, a local musician about travel cross-country on her first tour smiled candidly. Her gaze was thoughtful, even amused at her female counterpart’s question. But of course, her fans, always eager and enchanted by her eerie songs filled with pain and madness centering on ‘them’.
She looked down at the sleek electric piece lying across her lap. She thumbed over the strings absentmindedly, keeping the reporter on the edge of her seat with unhealthy anticipation. Finally the songstress looked up as if the eureka moment finally came to her.
“I think I got it,” the musician spoke in her cordial tone. “Writing songs for me is like bottling monsters. When I perform I let them out.
Then it’s a matter of whether or not they fit back in the bottle, or if more monster
Sitting in Chains. I'm sitting in chains, condemned to my own personal hell, to the darker side of my mind that has withered and aged beyond my years, Whispering my fears to me quietly in the dead of night, edging me further into the abyss of time, time that will eventually throw me at the feet of my inevitable death. But until then I will continue this deadly masquerade until one day I pull the mask off and fall into oblivion.
The Other Side Of Fiction
The way I see it, I'm not the first to try to break through from fiction to reality. I certainly won't be the last. You see, there are small windows of opportunity that open up from time to time. More or less in the form of small single use doors. They appear when someone's reality is shattered, usually during a highly traumatic experience in the real world. Something so terrible or unexpected that your perception of reality falters and fiction becomes just as real as truth. In those moments, we figments of imagination can sometimes slip through, into reality. Though from what I've seen, there are a few side effects to breaking into reality. The most obvious being "mental illness" You see, as something that doesn't technically exist, fictional characters don't have physical bodies. So, we must find a "Host" of sorts. This "Host" is typically the poor sod who was used as a door. This can result in full or partial possession of the "Host's" body, though it can render one or both parties
A Lost Sense of Humour“This...isn’t me.”
He shook his head, ruby red eyes filled with a deep lost confusion staring back at him, “This can’t be me when it just feels so...wrong.”
The pained stare disappeared as Carbon shut his eyes, reaching his feet quickly from his slouched position over the water. Even this sacred place seemed pointless to him. This ever calm flowing river where he spent many an afternoon when relaxation was needed. Even this home away from home had become just another place he passed by on his daily route. He turned his troubled expression over to the footpath before him, his lids half opened and half interested.
He had these moments. Times where he felt low. Unaccomplished. Defeated. But this bout hadn’t shown any signs of wavering any time soon, lasting far longer than its predecessors. It felt like an eternity had passed by him now, this horrid feeling within him growing to crippling proportions.
When had his joy left him, his blank mind pers
The Red BalloonThe Red Balloon
There was once a girl called Bella who everyday on the way to school would pass a man selling balloons. One particular morning Bella noticed a big red balloon right at the back of the bunch that the man was holding and instantly fell in love with it.
'Mum, Mum can I get that balloon?'
she would ask everyday, only to hear the reply of,
'No Bella! It's a waste of money and it will just shrivel up and die!'
Bella would always sigh and look away, perhaps she would never get the balloon...
But one day she had an idea. Maybe if she saved up all her pocket money, she could sneak out and buy it.
So that is what she did.
One sunny day after school Bella went to the man who sold the balloons and bought the big red balloon that she has been dreaming of for so long. As soon as she got it everything felt amazing; she twirled around the street with it and danced along the pavement.
But then she remembered her mother. She wouldn't be very happy that Bella had bought the balloon - or g
El monje y la ninfaEn toda mi vida como monje de esta región de la alta montaña he aprendido valiosas lecciones. He adquirido inestimables enseñanzas de sabiduría en los libros antiguos, sobre la importancia de la paz consigo mismo y con aquellos que les rodean. Sin embargo no hay mejor maestro en ningún domo como lo es la naturaleza misma. He dedicado arduas horas de mi vida a observar inocentemente a todas las formas que nos rodean, a conectar sus espíritus con el mío, porque todo lo que nos rodea acá es vida y no menos que vida libre. Una de las que más cautivó mi atención fue la pequeña ninfa que encontré cerca de la fuente que da al río.
Recién había terminado los quehaceres que me correspondían y me aventuraba entre los alrededores para conocer mejor el lugar, a pesar de haber sucedido esto cuando era joven puedo contemplar en mi memoria con claridad aquel primer encuentro. Me sentaba con la mirada perdida en los b
Getting Lost in The Everfree ForestTo many ponies, the Everfree Forest can be a frightening place. It's untamed, full of mystery, and unknown dangers. The Pegasus ponies don't control the weather nor do the Earth ponies cultivate the land. While it is frightening, there are many beauties that hide in this world too that are alien to Ponyville. The Castle of the Two Sisters hides here. Many of the wildlife call the Everfree Forest their homes. Though we live in Ponyville, we have a world within us that is the Everfree Forest. We may not be aware of it but at some point in our lives, we awaken to the fact that we are right dab in the middle of the Everfree Forest, with the direction to go to back to Ponyville a mystery to us. It may be terrifying for someponies but it's not all bad. The Everfree Forest has some pit stops that are safe like Zecora's hut or the Castle of the Two Sisters. These serve as markers to help us find our way back to Ponyville. We als
A woman who lovedI knew of a woman. A woman born, inadequately shaped to our standards of beauty, yet superseding that with wisdom scraped from the gray ghetto streets and hands that master the art of fulfilling cuisine. The woman also Loved.
Men —more like boy — teased.
And the world cared not.
Yet the woman still Loved. Her floppy smile somehow spread warmth more than the sun itself; her benevolent nature contrasted that nasty setting of 134 Burnt Street. She limped whenever she walked home, and the people thought less of her for the knee strained in a car accident. A gentle smile was still on her face, and she greeted them like old family, not a sign of hurt within those mossy eyes.
I knew of a woman. She talked to me when I sat alone on the park bench — new in that odd place. She smiled her floppy smile. And she became my first friend.
Men —more like boy — teased.
Descend the MoonSpring, Year 757 of the New Age
Oakfern, The Warren
Featuring Falasnornia (Age 10), Mentions NPC Esmene
For once, everything was taken care of. Vawter was covering patients with his new apprentice, her brother was out on a scouting mission, and she finished her duties, earning a day to herself.
The half-light of the bioluminescent moss was just enough to show the way as she trotted through the dank caverns. The moist air was cool, but rarely had Falasnornia ever felt truly cold in the caves. They were always at a steady temperature; the depth and darkness saw to that.
She picked her way patiently through a narrow passage and descended a few yards into utter darkness. She felt along the wall with her tail, counting her steps. It felt only like days since she came down here last, but she knew the years stretched between then and now. She hadn’t meant to stay away so long. Not from the place that brought her comfort as runty weanling. When Esmene
The Air I opened my front door and lifted my eyelids. The morning air was cold enough to materialize my breath, but my face felt warm enough that the air was refreshing rather than chilling. I stepped into the doorway expecting something extraordinary, only to feel the familiar crunch of gravel under my shoes like tiny bones breaking under the weight of my conscious body. The morning was familiar with me already, though we had never met. She wrapped her body of fog around mine as I stepped out of my doorway and swept her icy fingers through my hair as I drifted down the pathway of gravel-bones. The day was my pet, she was my other half, we were one, and against such a non-concrete being I felt naked.
"Together," The morning seemed to whisper into my ears, "together, together, together."
Keep in Touch!
Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More