deviant art

Deviant Login
Buy Art Buy adCast Buy Premium Membership
Shop		  Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour
[x]
Till death do us part"till death do us part"

Once upon a time there was a young girl standing under a tree with a frayed old noose hanging from a gnarled leafless branch. She had her grandfathers pocket knife in her hand, chips of wood scattered on the muddy ground. She stared blankly at the carved out heart with a whole in it. "When I find him...or her...them...its 2013 I'm open mined...I will return to this place and make my heart whole" she said to the mangled old tree.

Many years passed, filled with studies and travels, each year returning to that old tree marking off a line for each year her heart remained unfulfilled. On her return home from her yearly ri
Who am I?I won't tell you my name, because that's not important. And I won't tell you my age, or my appearance, or my gender, because that's not important either.

You might have seen me once, or maybe more than once. Most of you have. I know that for sure.

Not that most you would have noticed me if you did; that's kind of my job, my point. To hover in the background as you hurry past, wrapped up in your busy, self-centered lives. You've probably seen me, along with all the rest of those who were around as you focused on getting to Point A, whatever that may be, to Point B.

It's what I do. Not really anything important, but it's a job nonetheless. B
Falling I’m falling. Falling. Falling.
“What are you doing?”
I turn around. You are there. Wasn’t I falling?
You ask again, “what are you doing?”
I look up at you and tilt my head slightly, furrowing my eyebrows. I answer, “I… don’t know.”
You stand there. You crossed your arms and sighed deeply. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t know?’” You ask.
I just stand there, staring at you. I suddenly feel a pain in my chest and look down. I move my hand slowly up to grip it. I feel it pounding. “It hurts,” I say softly. I look back up at you. “Why
My soul, my confusionI hate feeling emotion.

It hurts, it kills....

It heals, it forgives...

It makes mistakes, it acts foolish...

This soul that controls me.

Take it away. I hate it.

I want to be a husk, with no love or emotion.

If it means getting rid of this pain I'll make the ultimate sacrifice.

But no, I want to live, to love.

I want to feel good emotion alone.

So what do I get rid off?

Something has to go, either me or them. But I couldn't do that.

I couldn't live with blood on my hands, with death in my heart.
Russian RouletteRussian Roulette
It happens like this-- a rich man reaches middle age. He has billions of dollars, and has done everything he has ever wanted to do in life. And, quite frankly... he's bored. But he's also a sadist. His wife and kids had absconded for that reason. He lives all alone, in his multimillion dollar mansion. He owns a business, and he uses his resources to pick out three very submissive people to play a game. He names himself Mr. Anonymous. Nobody knows that he is their boss. He sends each of the three people a package, containing a revolver, a bullet, and an audio tape describing the details of this game. His conditions are that e
The Lone Wolf and the Wayward Rabbit   Long since separated from the rest of his pack, a lone wolf was wandering the forest alone. He was scared and helpless out in the cold, unforgiving world. Separated from his old pack, he felt powerless. Sundered. Weak. He needed sustenance, above all else, but also needed some other, less urgent necessities. He wanted desperately to see the faces of his old pack again. Not even a week before this had happened, he found comfort in his pack-brethren. Their voices, and their kind words and thoughts, would give him comfort in even his most dire times. Now, thanks to those very same wolves, he couldn't think about them again without invoking an immobilizing sadness. His silver fur stood on edge, and the very thought of facing the pack again filled him with such contempt. He gave a half-hearted snarl to the air behind him, as if being chased by his inhibitions, and continued pressing through the snow-tinted forest. Small white flakes descended slowly around the entire forest, fr
Pandora's BoxWe all know it. Things happen. People change. Then why are we always surprised? Why do we still get hurt? Even though we know it’s going to happen, we can never seem to prepare ourselves. We can never quite fathom the inevitable. Even though it is, in fact, inevitable.  But it can be for the best, most of the time it is. Most of the time.

Most of the time even when it’s happening, even while we are still in pain, we know it is for the best. Because if not, then how else will we cope? How could we possibly cope if we didn’t have hope? If we have no hope, then how could we possible go on with our lives? Hope. We hope that eve
What I know for Sure: Night of the Shooting Stars
“Hush my child,
Go to sleep.
Watch the sun,
Fall behind the clouds.
Dream a dream,
Into the night.
Let your mind
Take you to places unknown.”

Routine

There’s a routine I go through every day. A routine that is average amongst most teenagers. Wake up, maybe take a shower, get dressed, brush teeth, run fingers through my hair to make it presentable, grab things and toast for breakfast and out the door for school. Most would call it average, I guess.

My name is Toni Michaelson, I’m eighteen and a senior in high school. I’m your average guy, around 6’1”, short black hair, brown eyes. Nothing special
BloodI need blood to spill.

I need it to be my own.

So I can take pleasure in being hurt.

I need the pain. I need the pleasure that comes with it.

I need the blood. I need the agony.

Someone come and grant me my wish.

Someone come and let my blood flow through more than just veins.

Blood must be spilled. Please let it be mine.

I don't care why, I just need to bleed.

I don't know, I don't care why.

Please just set my blood free.
MasochismI need pain.

I hate being happy, it is so.... degenerative...

I won't be a mindless smiling zombie.

I'll be different, I'll invite you to hurt me.

I need you to hurt me, it keeps me alive.

So break me, bend me, pull me down to my knees.

I invite hatred and death.

Pestilence and pain.

So tell me....

What's it like to stare in to the eyes of insanity?

Does it scare you?

Does it repulse you? Are you sickened by me?

Look at my masochism. I need pain in and out. SO GIVE IT TO ME!

I'll do everything to provoke your ire.

I must feel suffering again.

I hate being happy.
30I don't like people who think they're smart.
I like people who show me what they are, and then let me figure it out. As opposed to people who tell me what they are and don't do much of anything interesting.
The Cheetah and the Jackal: a Fable
                  The Cheetah and the Jackal: a Fable

     Once upon a time, there was a Jackal who was very fast at running. He was the fastest animal around and everyone knew it.

     One day, news of a faster animal had reached the Jackal. It was said that the Cheetah was even faster than the Jackal. The Jackal was mad. He had been the fastest animal for far too long to give up the post this easily to another animal, in fact, one he had never even met!

     The disgruntled Jackal said to himself, “I am the fastest animal, not the Cheetah. I must find him and challenge him to a race where I will beat him. Then all the animals wi
Hate is but a word...Hate is but a word. It is used like the oxygen we breathe. Yet it is not taken in to its roots just as air is not missed until its  absence from within the body. The word is not simply what we view it as, a word, an emotion... It is an entity, condemning the living, entangling and snaring the soul into solitude. Hate is an embodiment  of twisted fate. A love forever banished, a relationship eternally unbound. It is the sharpest of daggers, yet, the dullest if blades. The hardest truth, but the firmest lie. This is not a word, but a shackle of eternity, chewing through that which is sacred and leaving solitude and sorrow in its wake. Hate is e
Letter to the BulliesDear Bullies,

Why do you make me feel insecure Why must you put others down just so you can feel better about yourself?

  Why do you get joy from making me... Cry?

                                           Do you find if funny?

            Do you need a friend? Perhaps if you'd ask me, I'd be your friend.

Even though you torment me, I'll be here for you when you need a hug when no one else is around.

  Eventually people are going to see that it doesn't matter what you guys say about us,
 they'll start seeing themselves far better than the way you make them feel.

And maybe one day you'll start seeing yourself as others see themsel
The Joke
The Speaker began to tell a joke to the Listener. With a faint smile born of the expectations of the outcome, the Speaker began. The Listener, hands folded politely in its lap, focused on the charming words beginning to flutter in the air. The Speaker swayed its speech back and forward, over and under, and in between to tell its jester’s tale. The Listener, seemingly amused, leaned forward to capture the mirth. As the Speaker continued, its words began to meander and reoccur, thinning the humor and diluting the atmosphere. The Listener leaned back and relaxed its face, growing disinterested in the joke. Witnessing itself, the Speaker gr
Browse More Like This
Download File
TXT, 1.5 KB more ▶

More from ~KSaku

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

February 19, 2010
1.5 KB
Link
Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 2
Favourites: 5 [who?]


Views: 43 (0 today)
Downloads: 4 (0 today)

License

Creative Commons License
Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
[x]

Noahysumundoinversodenubes.

:iconksaku:

¿Sabes?, aveces me acuerdo de Noah y de su mundo inverso de nubes.
¿Recuerdas como nos decia que miraba hacia el cielo y decia que las nubes eran otra tierra, otros continentes que se movian dulcemente por el cielo, mucho mas rápido que la Tierra, mucho mas lejos que la Luna...?
Noah era soñadora y tierna, como las nubes de caramelo en las que flotaba a todas horas, mucho mas lejos de la realidad que el resto de las personas que la rodeaban. Noah saltaba entre bancos de nebina como un dulce cordero ingrávido que corre por el aire, mientras se evaporaba y se volvia a materializar, en un cliclo casi infinito; sobrevolaba las altas llanuras nubosas y los planos desiertos de todos los tonos de la escala de grises; se recreaba en las mas altas cumbres con solo desearlo; usaba los arcoiris como tobogan a las estrellas que se ocultaban mas allá de la pálida luz solar; y, cuando tenia miedo, se escondia en el interior del sol, ese cálido corazón que ella tanto amaba...
Un día me conto que se sentia triste, porque los huracanes en los que ella se mecia eran mortales para las personas de la superficie terrestre, algo que ella no sabia, y se sentia sucia y rastrera, tan maldita por disfrutar tanto de ellos mientras le hacian daño a otras personas...

¿Como no haber amado a Noah? ¿Como no haber llevado en el alma hasta la última de sus sonrisas?...
:icondistorted-mirages:
~distorted-mirages Feb 19, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
<333333 esta genial el escrito

sabes que me recordo inconsientemente a Col y al principito

<3
Reply
:iconksaku:
~KSaku Feb 19, 2010
pues de hecho, me vino la inspiracion despues de leer fragmentos del principito *-* como adivinaste D:?
y a col tmbn me recuerda <3
gracias por el fav, y por decir que es genial :$
love you♥
Reply
Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment
©2013 deviantART. All rights reserved
About Us | Contact Us | Developers | Careers | Site Tour | Help & FAQ Advertise | Premium Membership Etiquette | Privacy Policy | Terms of Service | Copyright Policy