~Chemuel
Dylan
Newest
The Nature of DistanceIt makes me cold to look at it, hung off in the distance like it is on its blue crest, the tree like a dead marionette slumping over it, bare as something picked clean.The Nature of Distance
I should go home to you now, but I fear you would notice the vacuum in me, that you would touch the part colder than space and turn to ice, to shatter in the thaw, to horrify me with the marbles of you, the winking bits.
A brigade of the petrified rings across the polar vista, tapped crystal by claw. Their calamity is our calamity, buried avalanched eons, our world the ice that falls into the
by ~Chemuel
DraftI crack a dessicated wing of the white witch moth, between my pale forefinger and thumb, both unadorned, as I am careless of jewelry: what finer ornament than withered flight? If I could wear the descent, gold should be so paltry.Draft
I expire, shattering as a thing dropped with intent does, disintegrating into thousands of glister-gild facets, each scattering into fragments of time, each living a separate life, before I must be reforged.
I wander for centuries, collecting the obscure glitters of me, to expire once more, all of my smiles stolen
by ~Chemuel
The Permanent CradleI. On the ground, a naked hatchling stretches, purple eyes swollen shut on a rubbery peach body, Pathetically translucent, violet beneath, embryonic, its yellow beak its single hard part. In my idiot sympathy, I find its fluttering throat cruel.The Permanent Cradle
II. As I child, I cheered the fleeing baby gazelle on the television, separated from its mother and inches from the claws of a lithe death, black-eyed and scrawny, the dark shades around their wet eyes the mourning of the ineffable.
I see now these deaths are nothing to lament, that ripe tenderness
by ~Chemuel
UntitledIn the undertow of my unquiet mind, I hear faint voices from the off television, residual music left crusted in a cerebral fold, the grunts and growls of bloodshed. I hear it as though I am wearing a gas mask, the sounds as faint as people's fists against quarantine.Untitled
I want for a different faintness: that of a hand against a still-young cheek, a forehead nestled in the a neck's crook, and the whir of a ceiling fan: normal.
I thought it odd as a child, that I heard flutes outside as I lay in the dark. (No one flutes at midnight, not where I'm from); ent
by ~Chemuel
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Saturday night's all right
TireddeviantID
Devious Info
- Interests: Interesting things?
- Favourite artist: Jan Van Eyck
- Favourite poet or writer: Neil Gaiman
- Favourite photographer: Ansel Adams
- Operating System: Windowns XP
- MP3 player of choice: iPod. iAm an iConsumer iWhore.
- Wallpaper of choice: Hello Hitler!
- Skin of choice: Aryan. See above. Also, I kid, untwist your panties.
- Favourite game: Fallout
- Favourite gaming platform: PC
- Favourite cartoon character: Courage the Cowardly Dog
- Personal Quote: Thou art not thyself; For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains that issue out of dust.
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Back on Track with the Liquid Black Mamba.
-DC
[link]
...or maybe I will just browse through your work and your favorites (very cool stuff btw), repeat endlessly
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Your camera can take an image, it cannot give it soul, thats something you have to add no matter how good your equipment is
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A man who wanted to become a god... then changed his mind
Thanks for the watch!
Saludos
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Frog them all!
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"No need to worry, I am just another monster."
A writer on dA? Awesome, you don't see them often enough around here.
Watch'd.
- PB
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Tis too much proved that with devotion's visage and pious action we do sugar o'er The devil himself.
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