| I have no artistic talent besides writing. I have no camera, and can hold a brush as steady as a man with arthritis jacking off on an avalanche, so don't expect much 'visual art' from this guy. |
Newest Deviations
The Fool ElizabethShe was at her wit's end which, unsurprisingly, was not that far from her wit's beginning. Elizabeth had not expected a murder would be so difficult to put together. She did, however, take solace in the fact that Jon was incorrect on one matter; taking a man's life is not difficult, it's the mucking about beforehand and the mess afterwards that is truly troublesome.The Fool Elizabeth
The sunlight streamed through the window, lightly touching the clean hardwood floor. Through ill-planning, the body lay sprawled on the area rug in front of an expensive red sofa, staining the carpeting with scarlet mess. A shame, thought Elizabeth, for it was a very
by ~A-S-m-i-t-h
A Writer's NightThere is a place that I call home, Where I drink and write myself this poem, But I fear I will begin to roam, And become these words which line my tome.A Writer's Night
I fear I do not have the heart, To dissect, lie-let, and tear apart, Every soul that passes by, Please tell me, Lord, where do I start?
I sit at home, curl up, and type, These putrid thoughts once they are ripe, They make me sad, though when I shun, Their absence pains me even more.
Is it like booze, and when abandoned, Festers in your head for years, And though the pain takes long to numb
by ~A-S-m-i-t-h
The Pricker BushShe rides the back of a great cement serpent,The Pricker Bush
As the wavering sun sets on the lush and green desert.
Though she knows that she is alone, Somewhere she hears a low moan.
She steps from the light of the winding gray snake, And is quickly swallowed by the dead, fertile trees,
And the moaning gets closer still, As she slowly starts losing her will.
Her damning curiosity has almost died, But she decides to push on just a little while more,
As the serpent still held tight, Lit by a hundred lamps’ light.
by ~A-S-m-i-t-h
Gone For A While
b0x0rz-lessdeviantID
| Fedora is Latin for Fucking Awesome. |
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Massachusetts
- Favourite movie: Dr. Strangelove
- Favourite band or musician: Pink Floyd
- Favourite genre of music: Blues
- Personal Quote: By and large, language is a tool for concealing the truth.
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"Bitches d▲n’t kn▲w ab▲ut my triangles." =BlackSatechi
I jest.
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"Bitches d▲n’t kn▲w ab▲ut my triangles." =BlackSatechi
I'm gonna go indulge a bit more, but thought I'd say something.
I got somefink in my teef.
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"Hobbes, what happens to us when we die?"
"I think we play saxophone for an all girl cabaret in New Orleans."
"So you believe in heaven?"
"Call it what you like."
"Great. Now we have to come up with a name for this food, snowman, and binocular based religion."
i'd love to read this if you don't mind helping me out.
thx
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'Til death do we part
Or papers declare it!
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"Hobbes, what happens to us when we die?"
"I think we play saxophone for an all girl cabaret in New Orleans."
"So you believe in heaven?"
"Call it what you like."
--
'Til death do we part
Or papers declare it!
--
Close the world, txEn eht nepO.
All of which have to do with a.) manliness, b.) awesomeness, c.) penis size, or d.) relating to the art of carpentry.
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"Hobbes, what happens to us when we die?"
"I think we play saxophone for an all girl cabaret in New Orleans."
"So you believe in heaven?"
"Call it what you like."
Fedora: Such a hat that it increases your testosterone levels as you're wearing it.
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Close the world, txEn eht nepO.
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