| A pretentious ID, no? First off, I'm 22. Because of a chemical accident, my arms are half their normal size, and I speak only pterodactyl. My apartment complex is situated in the belly of a blue whale (don't worry, it's dead). My roommates live in the bathtub, but I have to put them in a jug of water when I take a shower since they're jelly fish and all. Aside from my peculiar living space, I enjoy many of the things that normal human beings enjoy, such as making violin strings (the old fashioned way), churning butter, standing on my head, and playing board games with my roommates (I always win, but don't tell them that  ). I love to write and read, and when I'm not doing either of the two, I'm usually video-recording my self-induced seizures (I'll have a YouTube up soon). I don't really have a favorite author, but any literature involving someone's intestines getting sucked into a pool filter usually catches my eye. I guess I'm a pretty normal guy/girl aside from the fetus attached to my hip. That's all my mom's fault though. If she hadn't been knocked up by that giraffe, perhaps I'd have a twin brother/sister instead of this crusty little football shaped thing stuck to my pelvis. What's worse is that in my dreams, it often speaks to me, and tells me that if I don't stop this right now, someone's going to get offended and I could get kicked off DeviantART, but I respond by punching it in the face. *Jumps from chair into a vat of pickles* But seriously, I hope that everyone takes an honest look at my pieces here and gives some good critique. I hope to have some good fiction up soon, and with summer around the corner, that should be soon enough. Thanks to all of you watching me, and I'm more than happy to collaborate with you anytime! *Eats a pickle* (num num num) |
Newest
The RainI cannot drink it, and it never lets up.The Rain
I cannot taste it, but I feel it's ferocity. Clear rubber mallets tack pins to the skull. Silver bullets and shrapnel pierce the skin of my neck, and settle in the stomach. My lungs rot and wither. Ceasing breath. Cease.
Nourishment cannot find me, but the weeds are curbed and fed by the onslaught. I sit under tin roofs and feed on dry grass, and it cuts, but the blood never comes. Buckets plotted over the field turn to rust, but collect nothing. And the sun... a great red bu
by *Kerzenwachs
Free Drinks I.Free Drinks
Passing by, I spied a boy. Tight jeans, a cigarette between his fingers. Black nail polish. Sitting cross-legged.
I asked if he was gay. “No, I’m just comfortable,” with a smile.
Fair enough. I sat down beside him. He was cute, scruffy, so I opened
my purse for a clove. He flipped his Zippo, one of those tricks you learn with patience and quick fingers.
“A Cosmo?” he asked. I bit my bottom lip in approval of his gesture.
He left to buy the red remedy
by *Kerzenwachs
Deskby *Kerzenwachs
The Life of a LionStarving and restless in the shade. Shoots of golden grass gnawed at my sides, and my stomach churned while I watched our own pride entrap myThe Life of a Lion
brother. I turned my head and asked,
"Why, mother?" But her eyes stuck
fixed on the others, and we watched:
Flesh dangled from his ribs.
His muzzle flapped in the wind and bore his white jaws, while they
circled once more, closing in.
The ground sopped red with the
blood of his collapsed carcass. His
body would get us through this
famine, that much I understood.
Beneath indifferent blue skies, &nbs
by *Kerzenwachs
Of Memory and LossA lightly toasted bit of air Felt its way into my lungs. Soon, the crest of warmth Clung inviting on my face. Any softer were the buds, They surely would have died.Of Memory and Loss
And they did.
In time.
Screeching hungry overhead Loom a murder of crows. Perched on bare gray trees, Staring at nothing.
Just
by *Kerzenwachs
Withered WillThere is talk... ofWithered Will
Deeds, and their Picture perfect Completion.
The pleasant elation
Stemmed of production. The image is whole, But the goal not vested.
There is talk, Too Much talk... of The brilliance in a Dream. So much thought,
Too much thought, While the goal sprouts Mold. While the will grows
Old. And the vision flurries Off, like a
Dream you once had.
by *Kerzenwachs
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- Nov 7, 2009 @ 11:21 am=Synthetamine
- Oct 13, 2009 @ 8:21 am=an3czka
- Sep 21, 2009 @ 12:38 am~DioTuo
- Dec 28, 2008 @ 12:51 am~Yrahcaz
- Dec 21, 2008 @ 10:17 am~deadly-chris
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Murfreesboro, TN
- Interests: Music, literature, coffee, movies, video games, beer
- Favourite band or musician: Dredg
- Favourite genre of music: metal
- Favourite artist: H.R. Giger
- Favourite poet or writer: Eliot, Lowell, Poe, Bukowski, Vonnegut, Hurakami, Palahniuk, Collins, etc....
- Favourite photographer: Many
- Favourite style of art: Dark, honest, and something that presents more than just the artists emotion.
- Operating System: MAC
- MP3 player of choice: iTouch... you
- Tools of the Trade: Generally, a pencil and some paper.
- Email: bdb3f@mtsu.edu
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xo!
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an antique arms and armor expert
[link]
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
--
Clearfield Review: Prose, Poetry, Art.
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"There comes a man in every time's life..."
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My art website: [link]
My metaphysics and conspiracy website: [link]
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i like to
put haikus where they
don't belong.
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"Music rots when it gets too far from the dance. Poetry atrophies when it gets too far from music."
~Ezra Pound
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Hey look there's Booby Bunny!
-Baby Cakes
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"Tomorrow may be hell, but today was a good writing day, and on the good writing days nothing else matters." - Neil Gaiman
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