|I miss you, my friend.|
|I miss you, my friend.|
Current Residence: Billyburgh (That's actually Williamsport) Pennsylvania, Home of little league baseball
Favorite genre of music: Just about anything
Favorite photographer: all of them
Favorite style of art: varies
Operating System: windows xp, windows 7
MP3 player of choice: whatever is playing the piece I happen to be listening to.
Shell of choice: Walnut
Wallpaper of choice: something in a nice plaid
Skin of choice: If I can't have yours then I'll settle for zebra
Favorite cartoon character: Yacko Wacko and Dot
Personal Quote: I fell out of the box so I must be a corn flake
I have unrestricted stock in a folder in my gallery. However I do have a few small restrictions.
You must inform me of use.
You must link back to the original stock
and lastly, absolutely no hate promoting, anti religious (and this means any religion!) or prejudice (against anyone!) encouraging work.
Other than that do as you please.
Look What I Found In My Favorites GalleryFrom my recent scooting around dA, looking into galleries, and what's come through my Watch. Some of these are not new, and I'm wondering how did I miss them the first time around?
Lone Warrior by Mcconville2515 New Era by supersnappz16
My paradise) by IgnisFatuusII Twinkletoes' Tale by Reddawgi
Once LivingIf light
from a once
why should I believe
that my own light
my life has ended...
Take My HandTake my hand
run into the
rain with me
feel the cold
bright water splash
And sing the song
Their RegretThe feverish desperate act of one
Who wishes she could find her piece
Of solace, peace or swift release,
When memory’s damage has been done.
Though when the voices of the past
Speak hurriedly, and opt to blast
Her eardrums cave against the wake:
One cannot dwell in their mistakes.
What then, for malady’s retreat?
Shall better patterns, habits beat
Their chests upon one’s flailing form
As she fights rampaging storms?
The answer here is not quite clear.
No manual can quench the pain,
No words aid dendrites singed and slain,
The victims of her grievous fear.
While hope’s sweet lifeblood flows through veins,
She cannot help but wonder how
A life of vibrancy was cowed
Ripped, stomped, shattered, burnt and stained,
And in its place, there lies a girl,
With deep grey eyes and blood-dyed curls
Who smiles and says “Don’t give up yet”
“You cannot lose to their regret.”
this weaknessi am soft and weak.
my mother once told me
she wished she had a curvier body (while looking at mine),
but i'm only rounded edges because i hold fat that i
cannot turn to muscle;
i am weak because i am weak,
my heart is full of self pity and selfishness.
i stand in the hot shower, not wanting to
move at all because i sense no point in acting. i
stare at the fogged up glass and the condensation
dripping down the crying mirror, fat droplets, sad and heavy like i am.
lethargy dominates the bathroom, paces about the shower,
presses me against the wall and licks my bare skin with his dusk tongue.
i feel ten types of happiness, while rooted to the tile.
simealtanously, i am colored in twenty hues
of anguish, only because i deny movement (i refuse myself,
i am my own stray animal).
i am monochromatic, and weak,
and insanely, impossibly euphoric all at once:
this what heroin does to people.
i believe (it gets us killed, belief) i have a high pain tolerance,
but do i dare test that hypoth
Sallow(s)It’s only weeping willows
and sundry mosquitos—
it’s where your mother disappeared
and where your sister lost her young years.
It’s only weeping willows
and sundry mosquitoes
which drew you low.
MasqueradeCautiously plastering a smile,
A smile that holds no truth,
A smile that will please all those who are blind,
Blind to reality.
As if there is a veil of fog,
Fog that distorts the truth,
Rearranging all to appear fine.
The fog makes it so no one can see the sadness in the eyes,
A mask covers the frail smile.
A simple I am fine,
A dishonest I am okay,
Hides what should be discovered easily.
Another night gone,
Another morning has come,
It is time for the masquerade to begin again.
The cycle continues.
Day after day,
Night after night,
It is all the same.
Until it is impossible not to shatter,
Making the blind come to realize the reality,
The reality of the masquerade too late.