|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Cold, cold soulSURVIVORS JOURNAL: Argylle Aerbalest Lucrest-A.K.A. Doc, DATE AND TIME: January eleventh, 2014, fifteen hundred hours (3 P.M)
Hey there. I'm Argylle. But we both know you won't remember that, so you can just call me Doc. The Captain says we should start keeping journals, so future generations will know what happened here. He has always been an optimistic one, assuming that there will be future generations to read these. Well, the story I have to tell isn't a pretty one, but it happened. It might still be happening. The Oh-so-famous Apocalypse has come and gone, and the "Dark Days" have begun. Humanity has been kicked off of the top of the food chain, and we landed on our Asses pretty hard. The absurdity of the situation lies in its simplicity and speed. In two hundred and fifty four hours, eleven days, I have seen everything I love destroyed, killed and eaten right in front of me. Terror groups worldwide have tried and failed, outdone and outshone by dead (?) people. That’s got t
random ideas from the my journalmind you, these are just completely random ideas, and I have no idea whether or not ill do any6thing with them.
IDEA !: MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN
this is a little something i came up with after watching the wizard of OZ.
It started innocently enough, but then again, most deliriums do. i had watched a timeless classic, the wizard of OZ (A great film on all accounts) but then i started over-thinking it. specifically, i started over-thinking one specific line from the movie.
"Ignore the man behind the curtain."
i got to thinking, what did he mean, the man behind the curtain? The wizard was supposed to be this all powerful being, a symbol of masculinity, but the man behind the curtain, the true man (so to say) was a weak, cowardly being. yes, he was smart, but he was small and afraid.
Gods, what did it mean?
what was it trying to say? that those who parade power are truly a weaker man underneath? a coward? was the curtain he was hiding behind representing the mask we all wear so easily? so ef
For ScienceJournal Entry 1: March 17 1990
Location: United States Of America, Undisclosed
This is the scientific journal of Dr. Verones Lucard. here i will track progress on my experiments.
If you are reading this, that means one of two things.
1: I have died.
2: I have failed.
Either one would be unacceptable, and the person reading this would have to finish what i started.
My current work is highly sensitive, and important. It would be considered "Inhumane" by those weak of heart and stomach. While my work is mostly frowned upon, IT IS NECESSARY.
After all, someone must make the monsters...
Experiment 1: PHARAOH
PHARAOH is a highly delicate subject, with a highly Volatile disposition. She has been enhanced using cybernetics, making her stronger and faster. Unfortunately the Nanotechnology used for this subjects cerebral enhancements corrupted the subjects mind, causing her to lose the ability to reason almost entirely.
SUBJECT STATUS: FAILURE
PHARAOH had to be eliminated,
This is my domain.
the ground slides beneath me as if were made of glass, and my quarry tries to hide.
the hunt is what i live for now,
the rush, the adrenaline that courses through my veins as my prey tries to run.
nowhere is safe from me, out of my reach.
as my body slithers through, i finally catch sight of my quarry. a human, small and scared.
never should have entered my jungle, my domain,
my hunting ground.
they all struggle, and try to flee, but it is to no avail. but this one... he has been a worthy adversary. a challenge. good thing too, nothing works up the appetite like a challenge.
the shadows are my tool, and i use them well. my scales cover my lower half in the shadows, the perfect camouflage. the poor human cannot see me.
but what is this? he has a weapon! he hopes to turn the tables on me then?
i crept behind him. in the hunt, there are no rules of engagement. no honorable combat. just survival.
survival of the fittest. i reach out, and now my quarry is mere inche
healers tale- Scarlet night.
The air was heavy here, in this town. Dan had grown weary of his battles, mostly because of lack of sleep, and food, and water. it had been weeks since he had gotten a decent meal, if you could call it that. as far as Dan was concerned, dried fruit was NOT food. it was disgusting nutrition. NOT food. there was a significant difference between the two. he had gotten into a disagreement with Fate, and those never went well. thinking back, he probably could have used more tact...
"IT IS DONE." Dan couldn't believe it. years of servitude, no, slavery to this, this thing! and it was gonna cut him loose like a 18 year old at a McDonalds? "What the fuck do you mean,IT IS DONE? just like that? i get to die now? can I finally move on?" Fate had no face, no body, but Dan knew that it was grinning. "NAY, I SHALL NOT GRANT YOU THE FREEDOM YOU SO DESIRE. THIS IS YOUR PUNISHMENT, TO WALK THIS GALAXY FOR ETERNITY." Dan was livid. "We had a deal you motherfu-" "YES. WE HAD A DEAL. KEY TERM BEING HAD."
Liquor is one way out an'death's the other The art of growing up,
is to pour shots of whiskey
into your coffee in the morning
to make it through
when all you want to do
is lie in bed
but there’s nothing
The tragedy of the mook and how it died one dayThe fickle sky presses
Against the glass of the windows
And the dry strung up heat of the winter sun
Spilled over the anemic asphalt
Our shadows seared into the bottom of our sneakers
Moving with a sort of blithe nonchalance
Searching for the speckled grey of a familiar horizon
The apathetic footsteps and my clenched hands
Quiver beneath the setting sun’s bloody smear
Across the over populated sky
That was no longer clear
Rather it was the looking glass phenomena
Spread eagled across my retinas
And during those grief stricken days spent
Hanging off your rooftops and skylines
I've contemplated replacing
my heart with another
Liver so I can
Drink more and care less
And I can vow that sleeping is only
For the dead or at least
The heavily medicated and sadly
I can no longer tell the difference between
spun out so far, i can't be true to you.he's still the way i watch the stars
and how i run like no one's watching
he's what i dream of when i'm awake
but maybe i'm done waiting
maybe it's you
maybe it's me this time
and maybe that's enough
he still races through my veins
and no, my heart is not steady when i see him
but i was never one for patience
a year is too long to hold on
and he is conservative
and button downs
he is beautiful
but i am wild
i am dirty feet
and summer evenings
i am mud-caked nails
and cider throats
i am sun soaked
laced with drunken poetry
i am watercolour
he is oil based
he is canvas in london galleries
i am doodles on napkins in mediterranean restuarants
you are cheekbones and dark eyes
coffee stained fingers
smirks and accidental brushes
i don't intend to know anything more
he is confidence
i am uncertainty
i live in the wind and the forests
we both spend too much time in front of mirrors
but whilst he kisses them
i crack them
and all the while he is leather
i.by the grace of an orphaned wintering,
i have known you
babel, babylon: eyes raptured rare and hands
to strange knowing and palebruised
throat of dissonance
. ...such sudden gods. such taken
you stumble where night falls
too far to the left; my wild garden
old dusks, blue
reality vs. pretendi.
a wooden sword
and an eye-patch
i was a girl who
knew deep inside
had developed feelings
and they were all
selfishly for me.
you tricked me,
you kidnapped me,
all to tell you stories
in which good triumphs
over evil, not really;
was to walk the plank
as you planned to kill
him and feed him to
the ticking crocodile.
happy thoughts and
faerie dust would
allow me to fly,
but i only had the
first and i was doomed;
your wooden sword poked
my back, waiting for me
to take the leap
down (the stairs),
hearing the ticking
(of the oven)
go off - just in time.
surly, mother called us
down for dinner
and at the end of the night,
it was all truly
bedtime stories will
serve as my peter pan,
as my escape from reality.
ScreamSo I'll stand and yell it to the ceiling
to celebrate the fact that i'm alive and breathing.
I'll take your hand to try and share this feeling.
The only thing I can do is stand and scream.
"I still fucking love you."
And hope it starts the healing.
PossibilitesWhen I was 5
I wanted to be
anything to be
When I was 12
I wanted to be
to learn how
the Earth works
and what makes
stones so beautiful
When I was 16
I wasn't sure what
I wanted to be
The future was uncertain
So was I at this point of time
But then again
So were other kids
Now I'm 20
I want to be a writer
My mind's eye seeing
people and places
like a photo album
words stringing together
to create something beautiful
Because.Because thank you isn't enough
because I'm Sorry won't solve a thing.
Because I'm too short
or too tall
or too skinny
or too fat.
Because it just doesn't work that way
because somethings can't be changed
Because when you
spend a lot of time
writing the word
on a sheet of
white lined paper
you just begin to realize things.
Because saying 'because'
won't help you in life.
Because you just have to do it.
Because you just need to get up.
Because you just got to go somewhere.
Because we should stop doubting ourselves and
because we should only try our best.
Because life is too short.
By: Ulrich J S Edelstein
-My thoughts alter
Of each passing day.
They never stay identical.
-At a single moment
They could be cordial, charming, or gratifying.
Then they could alter drastically
Into thoughts of outrageous things.
-They could go from endearing, delightful and virtuous,
To homicidal and barbaric.
Thoughts of inspiration and aspiration,
To murderous and torturous plotting.
-I could think that I like someone,
Thinking they are full of elegance, charm, and intensity,
To insufferable, ghastly beings of this Earth.
Drastically altering my mood along with my thoughts.
-All is well at one moment,
And then all is heart breaking at another.
Becoming aware no one really cares.
People who are supposed to support you, disrespect you immensely.
-My thoughts alter when I fall and no one is there for me to lean on.
I think that they are caring people,
Then disrespectful, low pieces of debris
That animals urinate all over.
-My thoughts alter all the time.
a look into the mind of a sane lunaticas time crawls by and another sleepless night passes, one must ponder on the meaning of things. why must all good things come to an end? why must all beautiful things be ravaged and destroyed in the guise of self preservation? and why must people fear what they do not understand? who are we to question the method behind the madness, when all we care about is whether it works or not? but, my friend, i suppose the question is hidden in the answer. and while some may not call this art, it made those of you who bothered themselves enough to read it think. and if art is self expression.....
Dreams of realityA pair of eyes;
Open and stare through the lights,
Into the darkness of doom.
And yet they smile,
Yet they smile.
A drop of tear;
Seeps through the garden of death;
Falls to the mortal soil.
Dreams and desires will blend again,
To render the roses alive.
I am floating through a vision.
Like ripples, floating through the pond of life.
Can reality be so real?
Let me drown again,
Into the silence of familiar noise.
As I wander through the lanes of reason and passion.
The flame of hope burns bright,
Drenched in the colors of freedom.
So let my dreams unravel my soul,
As darkness fades away;
And let mortality draw me closer to destiny.
As these pair of eyes,
Open to stare through the lights again.
Is this reality?
Can reality be so real?
Time passes by, as the eyes keep staring;
Staring at the distant lights;
Staring beyond the distant skies.
What do they see?
What do they long?
What do they desire?
Then the skies will break down;
White lightning striking the dreamy clouds.
Moments will tur
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More