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About Deviant Official Beta Tester toxic--sunriseFemale/United States Groups :iconpixeldolls: PixelDolls
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Everything and anything, plus the stuff between.


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5 deviants said TALK TO ME ABOUT FOOD
No deviants said TELL ME THINGS


Wed Nov 23, 2011, 8:42 PM
Btw, deviantArt is having a glitch where it won't let me comment on your profile. :shrug:
Thu Jul 21, 2011, 9:03 PM
Hey! I used your FFM prompt "Leave the umbrella behind" here.
Thu Jul 21, 2011, 9:02 PM
great herpityderpity.
Wed Jul 13, 2011, 8:46 PM
Thu Jul 7, 2011, 10:05 AM



Journal Entry: Sun Oct 26, 2014, 6:59 PM
i turned twenty-one. i went out with friends, and said things i didn't mean. i enjoyed myself but not the drinks or the hangover or the situation i caused. but i'm twenty-one and it's time for thank yous to you lovelies for birthday wishes and i think i've gotten through all of them. i got two poetic letters to write yet, and a couple more feedback messages to get through, but in all i like you guys a lot so have some pretty things.


These Timeswalking the banks of memory
cicadas sing the song of my youth
harsh and unforgettable
lonely and undeniable
always evoking the same dreams
for every summer day
is an echo of the last
the course changes beneath
though the river holds steadfast
A strong and broken man.A strong man is defined by his vows,
and he had bled for his.
Years could not age what he had swore,
and she wished he had sworn for her.
A captain of honor and virtue
damaged by his hope.
She struggled with his obsession
and grew jealous of it.
Was she not worthy of his regard?
Not a symbol for adulation?
Could she not tempt a loving word,
or even break the skin?
The stronger the man the worse the break,
and what was he if not broken?
Hope had scarred but did not mend
the loss he bore on his back.
She felt his eyes recede
and knew he thought of her.
A woman that had won his strength
and lost it to his ambition.
A man who loved so purely
it reflected in his crimes.
He felt the loss so deeply
it imbedded in his skin.
She never knew herself
to crave a hopeful man.
But she loved him for his vow,
and wanted him to break it.
What Must I GiveI’ll reach the stars and kiss the sun,
just so you know I love you.
I’ll fly to heaven and battle hell,
just to say you’re worth it.

But what must I do to grasp your heart,
to hold it in my hand?
What must I give to earn your love,
to be your one and only?

I’ll stop the rain and hold the clouds,
just to hear your laughter.
I’ll catch the moon and pull it down,
if only to know you’re happy.

But what must I do to see your smile,
to watch it with my eyes?
What must I give to taste your lips,
to know you’re mine forever?

I’ll move a mountain and hand you a river,
just to know your story.
I’ll burn the snow and melt the fire,
just to hear you say my name.

But what must I do to walk by your side,
to hold your comforting hand?
What must I give to hear those silent words,
spoken from your lips?

I’ll hush the silence and breathe the wind,
just to see you look my way.
I’ll give wings to

fall in love with (splitting hairline fractures)we swallow blues instead
of talking them out. oh,
kids like us are specters,
spectacles: boys counting
rib(cage)s & (de)composing
     don't you hate
         (this body)
             is a vessel
we're deities or tomb-raiders; no
in-betweens for writers these days
Nos Langues Nous TrompentI
i seem to have, over the median part of the year, forgotten what winter is like, that chilling monochromatic expanse of... everything and nothing and death (i see black and white... you see only grey). perhaps i have only forgotten what winter at night is like: i know these hills from a childhood of sledding, seizing those precious seven and a half hours of daylight, but adulthood seems to mean darkness all the time. or perhaps i've forgotten walking in winter: the teeth of the wind, slush in my socks, sloping white sheets draped carelessly over surfaces of every angle.
barring either of those, perhaps it's just that the onset of winter was disproportionately short and i find myself in the midst of the season with little time to prepare. the night weighs on me heavy, a cityful of wet snow, but i still dress twenty degrees warmer than i should. it is one thing to look and not touch; another thing entirely to be trapped inside – i long to return to a world you've denied
WishesI am wistful and wanting
worshipping the idea
         of you
             looking at me
wide-eyed and willing
             I fall.
AnywayI strike the match.
I strike the match and
nothing happens.
I strike the match
and the wind blows out
the flame.
I strike the match and
the girl with the dragon ring
grabs the matches and
crushes them with her heel.
But she holds up the sparkler
as if it were burning.

each kiss carries
context and content,
each nuance
changing connotation.
i. forehead
sad eyes pour into mine
like a swimming pool
being filled with angels’ tears.
i cup her face in my hands,
trying to hold all of the water
that escapes her
as i gently kiss her forehead.
i will cradle her cerebrum
and maintain our composure.
i will protect you.
ii. temple
temporal touches
refers to the hands on a clock,
as well as the anatomical.
and this kiss is subtle,
but it represents our passing of time.
i started this with my mother at 13,
and only a few embraces away from 18.
iii. cheek
childish caresses
with our fingers locking
themselves to adolescence.
i never have visibly blushed,
but i swear my flushed cheek
burned where your left your lips
for nearly a lifetime.
at least that’s what it felt like.
iv. eyelids
i kissed the blinds
that covered the windows
of your soul
to let you know
the sun still shone
even if your eyes were close
Empty But Alivebreathing you in, october
i taste the numbing agents
even on the very surface
of your conspiracy, this
prepping of the patient
this unworking of the earth
sealing it as-is
hardening the sites
of future graves, forced shallow
not harvesting, just weakening
arranging late-year stacks
of blurry panic, while disabling
the defensive response
so much decline to wage
before the winter kills
october knows i'm a fool
for the dark underbreath
of its dead open air
the howl of the breeze
through its night fields, empty
but alive, and so very not empty
its rhythm of silence
between barks and calls
stalls my heart mid-beat
i used to pray for its engines
to restart, before it hit ground
but now i realize
that there is no floor
to this dream
and no bottom to this fall
Silence by vampirekingdom The Spider Queen's Door    For as long as I could remember, the field by my neighborhood was empty. The ground was too soft for construction equipment, and the soil wouldn’t nurture anything but weeds. Only two dead trees, surrounded by mushrooms, broke up the emptiness of the field.
    The owner couldn’t do anything with it, so he left it empty. My parents wouldn’t let me play over there. They called it trespassing. My friends called it something else.
    Spider Queen.
    They said the trees were the doorway to her cobweb kingdom. They said if you went between them she’d catch you up and eat you. No one ever found the kids who wandered into the Spider Queen’s home.
    We never played in the field, even though it would have been perfect for any game we could think of. But no one wanted to risk death, or worse, getting grounded. So we played in the streets and driveways and broke up games whenever a car drove through. And we n

  • Listening to: The fan / the boy playing Modern Warfare
  • Reading: lovely things in my inbox
  • Watching: ---
  • Playing: How Shitty Can Your Family Be roulette
  • Eating: ---
  • Drinking: ---


United States
I'm unpredictable.


Could you do me a favor? If you're here to thank for a favorite/llama/ect please don't just say
"Thank you for [thing here]!"

It's annoying to just reply "thank you!" all the time. kaythx. :heart:



Add a Comment:
leyghan Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Hobbyist Writer
(1 Reply)
UnreliableRuth Featured By Owner 4 days ago
Thanks for the favorite :)
(1 Reply)
Little-Tin-Wings Featured By Owner 5 days ago
Thanks for the fave!
(1 Reply)
LadyBitterblue Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Oh damn damn damn... I forgot about your birthday! *slams head against wall* Arrrgh I feel so terrible now. But I did remember to send you a postcard! Consider it a sort of birthday present? c;
Anyway, I guess every day is as good as your birthday to let you know that you are cherished and the world is happy to have you. Sometimes, mistakes turn out to be the best a person could have done. Sometimes, Fate steps in with a bottle of tequila to create wonders. :heart: I hope life is lovely to you, dearest.
(1 Reply)
musicallybrunet Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
holy crap did i miss your birthday? im so so sorry if i did, but happy birthday!!!
(1 Reply)
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