|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Married to Love - Nothing is Left“I wish… I could go to a time…” She softly bit down on her lower lip, and her tongue slid against it, filling the brittle craters with saliva. Her voice was hoarse and her knees throbbed. For days she had been progressing through this forestry conflagration, taking step after step in the same direction, hoping that it would soon end. But it seemed no matter how long she treaded, the only sign that mankind had ever even existed was this highway – as cracked and withering as her lips.
Maybe if she stayed along this relic of man, someone would find her. Someone doing the same would stumble upon her… Someone noble. Someone sweet. And they would rendezvous away from this place, from these trees, from these bugs, from this wet, sordid heat, and she would… she could…
She stopped walking. She looked down at her toes, like the road, like her lips, cracked, blistered, bleeding; and she thought: What if no one was left? What if they had all the
ImpressionsYou wasted a lot of hours wondering, didn't you? Breaking the very pointless into the extremely pointless, and degrading the extremely to the impossibly. But I can assure you, that no matter how pointless those thoughts are, the action itself holds meaning. To reduce everything in this world to rubble is to understand the universe at a primal level.
At first, I feel inclined to regret it. To advise you not to do it. Yet, I know such a request would be superfluous and even counter-intuitive. After all, I know you like I know myself. I know that such a warning would not deter you, but riddle you with curiosity until making you shatter in one prolonged episode of moral depravity.
So I won't tell you to stop. In fact, I will tell you the opposite. Do it. Do it as quick as you can. As much as you can. As healthy as you can. The sooner you discover the truth that I wish I could have never known, the sooner you can get past it. The sooner you can accept it. Your life doesn't have to be
VoicesYou're one of the most fascinating people I know.
Really. It's true!
But that doesn't make you good. It doesn't make you right, either Maybe I'm not the person to make that call, since I don't really know what either of those things are; however, I'm confident they are not you.
You live a very ironic existence, don't you? Purposeless and apathetic. Only finding motivation in the petty and the depressing. And you wonder why you hate life. You've never lived a day of it. You watch other people live it, and you wish you had what they have But you can't. You can't ever be like them, can you?
See! That's why you're so interesting! Anybody different is met with curiosity. Anything that breaks the norm is a learning experience.
But some people are different and typical at the same time. They have these unique quirks about them that make them seem interesting on the first glance; but it is only upon close examination does one realize how typical they really are.
I have trouble with
Sewer ManIt felt instantaneous. As if I had gone to sleep normal, and woke up deranged. As if in a single moment, I had become what I am. I don't deny it, either my being deranged, that is. Any man, and I use the term "man" loosely, is deranged if they stray too far from the social focal point; and by God have I done that much!
It started as a fascination, grew to be an active interest, and eventually became what I recognize to be an obsession. I even remember the day that I completely regarded myself as obsessed or rather, deranged. I remember my insanity became so consuming that I submitted my humanity to it. Yes, that is why I use the term "man" loosely, because I often question if I am one.
To me, a "man" is one who thrives in social environments. There are odd balls, but even those who are troubled are still "man." However, sometimes you get these exceptions. You get these transgenders. These people who may or may not have social skills, just as a male in a female's body may
Zombie Apocalypse - Part 1Zombie Apocalypse
Written by Katrina Zwicker :iconkittykattrina: & Jack Derril :iconjderril:
KittyKatTrina wrote the following:
"It looks pretty clear..." Trina said, steeling herself up for another risky supply run.
"Remember Springfield? That looked pretty clear too and we just barely made it out..." Jack replied.
"Yeah but that was last year! The hordes have thinned out recently. We haven't seen one in days. Thankfully."
"And that was a fully contained shopping mall with internal hallways. That's why we got cornered like we did. This is just a strip mall with doors on the outside."
“Ok, fine..." Jack finally conceded.
"Yay! Let’s get some food!" Trina led the way across the deserted street and parking lot, leading with her compound bow with an arrow already knocked and her trusty daito bokken in its improvised sheath on her backpack.
Jack covered her from behind, but there was no real
Zombie Apocalypse - Part 2Zombie Apocalypse
Written by Katrina Zwicker :iconKittyKatTrina: and Jack Derril :iconjderril:
jderril wrote the following:
Jack smiles carefully at Trina as she pulls forth a measure ribbon. "Where did you..." Jack starts.. "ah never mind.” Grabbing the ribbon Jack jumps on the couch. Realizing he is now only a few inches away he gently lands a hand on Trina's side. She doesn’t seem to mind. Trina feels as hard as rock, though surprisingly warm, even tender somehow. The gentle warmth of Katrina soothes Jacks nerves.
Moving his hand towards the front, he now follows the shape of what must be the most clearly defined abdominal muscle in the world. . They must be at least 2,5 inches in depth. His fingers disappearing almost in between them. "How... Erm.... How does it feel?" Jack carefully asks.
Trina noticing Jack’s emotional state seems calmer, giving her confidence to speak more freely about her new body. "Well... It’s incredible, I feel
CharlyCharly stepped out into the freezing cold night. A bitter wind bit against his skin. Every ounce of his body compelled him to turn on his heels and carry his sorry arse back into his flat. But his mind rebelled and kept urging him on forward. He pulled up the collars on his coat and began to make his way down the street. The street was empty and illuminated by a seemingly endless strip of lamps. On both sides of the street empty houses loomed over him, he felt as if they were staring at him. Casting a cold, judging gaze down upon him. He looked down at his feet.
He walked for hours (At least it felt like hours). It was the only way that he could think. Away from the endless droning of the TV. Away from problems. Just away from everything.
But tonight was different. Tonight he had to do something. He did not know exactly what it was yet. But something seemed to be nagging at him, like an itch. As he walked the houses began to get less and less, and there were no longer any street lights
It appears you don't have PDF support in this web browser. Download PDF
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
Keep in Touch!
Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More