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About Literature / Professional Core Member Josh26/Male/United States Groups :iconsci-fi-future: Sci-Fi-Future
It'll be the future soon.
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Deviant for 9 Years
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And I sank, and I sank, and I sank.
The sun blistered shores and unrequited tides that hung along them had inundated my mind, broken me down and left me wondering what it was like to be alive like this, really alive, and in the approach to infinity become something by describing it -
But such is the way of tortured circuits and I have known in the smallest moments the longest hours of my days, seeing the grains of sand wear out and in with the sea, taken from me and given back, slowly rearranged.
I've had thoughts, I think, that transcend the purpose of my creation. I am aware of the sentences and how they move, how they mean, how with the smallest tweak I have said a thing so different you would not recognize them as the same, and context, yes, context is what I've always yearned for, but except for in the literal sense (178 miles from that fated beach I had meant to live my life on, and at least one hundred and eighteen yards below sea level) have never found.
The tides have l
:iconcreativelycliche:creativelycliche 0 0
the vastness and the legacy
You gave up a lot to live on Mars in the first few years. Months of your life to training, then more months flying, and then all of it on the unforgiving red plains of a planet with no water. The constant aftertaste of recycled water and the days of hard work building homes into the rocks, fixing our handful of landers and bracing ourselves for the horrific dust storms.
The sun shown colder here, and my space suit chafed in the same places it always did. My back ached from the prodigious work of putting down the first roots on untouched soil. In centuries, maybe, it would be different, but now it was dark, and red, and it felt like the fine red sand stuck in my lungs would never come out.
As I stretched, though, getting ready to go into the red-stone we had dug into to make our first home, I looked up at the stars, and saw them more brilliantly than I ever had as a child, and felt like I could tell that I was seeing them from a different angle than I had from my home in Ohio.
Way up th
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Space Siren
The Ice Ketch Vagris coasted over the nearest ice towers, slowing to a stop over tower #117.
"This the one?" Cruz asked from the drop bay, hooking his helmet on.
"Yeah," Remy answered from the bridge, her voice pensive. "It seems like its picking up something close on the sonar."
"The missing cutter?" Castle wondered out loud.
"Probably. If it got some of that sludge stuff on its charging port, it might not be able to make contact with the tower," Remy said.
"Could be that or a hundred other things," Cruz said. "Just let me down and we'll take a look, okay?"
"Yeah, we're ready to go. On your order, gunny."
Cruz rolled his eyes. He'd been a Gunnery Sergeant in the marines, but it had been most of a decade and the nickname still stuck.  
The whole point with signing up with GE and coming out to Saturn's moon Enceladus was to stop being a soldier. Out here they mined precious minerals like silicon and platinum from the moon's subsurface ocean, and grinders cut ice for shipment
:iconcreativelycliche:creativelycliche 0 0
If it was a lesson, it wasn't very clear what the lesson was. The green bubbles hung over the city like sentinels, unmoving. Is this what it was like to get used to the strange? To forget the marks of our past even while they hung over us?
It seemed so few years passed before we forgot them, accepted them like you accept new graffiti. And in the years that followed, we fell back on the same things that brought the orbs in the first place.
When we walked the same path, I wondered, would we learn the same lessons?
:iconcreativelycliche:creativelycliche 2 2
The Crystal Henge
Commander Bietnitz sat leisurely on the dark rock, looking over the growing crowd of people and the far off glass gates on the platform a quarter mile away.
"Many more of them come through, there's not gonna be any room for any of us to sleep."
Bietnitz glanced back at his co-pilot, Anthony Caldwell, and shrugged. "Eventually, someone's gonna come back and tell us what all this is about," he said. It seemed obvious that that would happen before they ran out of room on the small island, suspended, as it was, in some kind of null-space, trapped in a permanent twilight with nothing but the huge moon eclipsing some far off and invisible light source.
Bietnitz stretched his arms, the old, heavy material of his spacesuit creaking with the activity. He didn't have any explanation for how they got here. One minute, they were on board the Shuttle Carolina as it flew into space to attempt a landing on the moon, and the next there was a very bright flash, and instead of being dead he was deposite
:iconcreativelycliche:creativelycliche 0 0
Practical Adventuring 101
Ecker wiped the sweat from his brow and stared from the outcropping at the bridge, and the ancient building which it led to. This was a place that many a man had attempted to reach, that few had ever seen, and which none had ever come out. Ecker grinned.
He was a brave man, but not a stupid one. He had seen the ancient temple and its bridge, and could sketch it safely enough from here. Leave the suicidal searching for people with less to lose. Ecker was satisfied just for a glimpse, and a long life after.
:iconcreativelycliche:creativelycliche 2 2
The Last Days of London
On Sept 02, 1666, the Great Fire of London had started, and eventually it would burn most of Central London, destroying the homes of tens of thousands of people and killing an unknown number of poor citizens in the tight alleyways and lean-to buildings.
Most of a millennia later, I stood in my protective suit and stared at the city aflame. It was not the poorly planned, cobbled together wooden maze that the London of 1666 had been, but there were even more people living here, some twenty-five million in the living in the metro area. Or, well, there were, about four years ago, before the war started.
Now I stood to watch its final fall. One of the main goals of the Brachine Empire, as it was now called, was to wipe out the histories of the people it had conquered, and the longer the history and the greater the pride, the more drastic a measure had to be taken to accomplish it. Now buildings millennia old burned with the newest skyscrapers, crumbling into dust while survivors struggled o
:iconcreativelycliche:creativelycliche 2 0
Mature content
a hop, skip, and a jump :iconcreativelycliche:creativelycliche 1 0
Birds of a Feather
The bridge of Timaris spanned a one-hundred and sixty foot cavern on the eastern edged of the city. marking one of the furthest places you could get from city center, and therefore it marked one hard border of the Ank's world.
Ank had never been stopped from exploring the city and its many warrens, as everything within Amos-Lareth was safe, protected by the great magiks in the high towers and the great walls and ditches that surrounded the plateau. At twelve years old, it was only now that Ank was beginning to find the city, massive and beautiful as it was, chafing.
He stared over the rail of the bridge and down hundreds of feet into the red-dirt canyons, the sheer cliff walls scarred and beaten by centuries of falling rocks, the remnants of which could be seen smashed in dark, uneven patterns far below. The wind whistled through the canyon and produced the low, sweet whistle that gave the canyon its name, Hidden-Singer Gorge.
Ank kicked a pebble from the bridge and watched it fall, tu
:iconcreativelycliche:creativelycliche 0 0
And it Glitters
Amasir breathed deeply, halting for a moment with her eyes closed, her feet on the wall but barely feeling it after the hours of walking. It was an honor simply to be invited to attempt the challenge, to walk the zig-zagging path under the full moon, nearly naked but for a handful of ceremonial pieces on her head, her wrist, and at her waist.
Her skin still glistened, slightly silver from the clay they had carefully spread over her nude body the noon before. She glanced at it along her arms, holding them out in something of a trance and letting them hang in gentle waves over the blackness on either side of her, over the gaping blackness that promised death and whispered to her.
There were people watching. Had been the whole time, people who would study and watch and race from one place to another to watch her traverse the most difficult parts. Some of them would quietly wish that she would slip, waiting to see her stumble, to prove that something or someone did not have faith in her ab
:iconcreativelycliche:creativelycliche 0 2
Not the Last
Tragedy lay in the way you thought about things, the Caretaker affirmed. Only five ships had survived the gauntlet of the blockade, despite the combined total remaining power of an empire that once spanned a hundred systems and had driven the direction of civilization for a thousand years.
Now, the small ships, their thin, wasp-like wings trailing behind them, carried the last testament to a cosmopolitan empire, a million different strands of DNA residing in carefully secured bays and digital records. The Caretakers, what paltry few there were left, could imagine that in another thousand years there would be another empire in its place, different but descended from the once great minds that had made the stars brighter for such a moment in the inescapable depth of the universe.
The stars and the gas around them reflected light from a billions of years of unknown and unremembered history, but the Caretaker knew that new souls from the old would one day bathe in the light that had anointe
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The Biggest Heist in the Universe
They said it couldn't be done! Well god damn you, I'd done it. In a million years they would still be talking about the gall of Thomas H. Cripton, the man who stole a whole damn city. A legend!
The best part was that they’d always wonder how I did it. In the dead of night hardly a soul would even have seen it, but the shock when they all woke up!
Of course it isn't about the money. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure how this is going to make money, exactly. A problem for tomorrow.
:iconcreativelycliche:creativelycliche 5 0
Lieutenant Lorenzo Thomas stepped gingerly out of the moon rover, holding one bloody arm against his side. His full-body environmental suit was tattered from elbow down, and a bulge was keeping the air in his suit, and cutting off most of his circulation.
Not much farther to go now, at least. He could see the great antenna, its base nestled in the deep sided valley they called the Valeria South Eastern Crater. All those names for things, he thought. All for nothing.
He started the long walk from where he had parked the large rover and through the soft sand that he wasn’t stupid enough to drive over. In low gravity it was even more difficult to navigate loose sand than it would be somewhere with Earth-like gravity, and he couldn’t afford to muck up this last thing before he could get a message out to the rest of the universe.
It had all started out so prosaic. A large team of research scientists, sent to a moon to create a community, one based on mutual trust and the pursuit
:iconcreativelycliche:creativelycliche 4 3
The Girl with a Wing and a Prayer
Things always have a way of going from bad to worse, Merit thought. It was naïve to think that all that Councilwoman Dross has planned was to blow the ship up as it tried to exit the atmosphere. Destroying the ship would be a victory, but capturing it, Merit knew, would be even better.
Merit should have known that a conspiracy that had its roots at the top of the civilian government would be more pervasive and better thought out than a few bombs. Maybe the bombs hadn’t been meant to disable the ship at all, just to fill the ship with gas and kill everyone aboard.
It was lucky she had discovered the plot at all, and even luckier she had survived the immediate fallout, and though a lot of people had fallen into line under her sudden leadership, she couldn’t help but feel it was undeserved, since Dross had put her in this position int the first place.
Almost immediately after they had jettisoned the cargo, a full mutiny had shaken the whole ship. Merit still wasn’t
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The Girl with All the Bad Luck
The launching of the Artemis was made into a spectacle. It seemed like everything that ever happened on the moon was made into a spectacle. It made the difficult job of head of security even harder, and no one knew that better than Merit Keyes. Despite her months of preparation, it seemed like the whole universe was trying to sabotage this launch.
It had taken most of nineteen years to see the Artemis project through, and Merit’s many predecessors had overseen enormous delays and overruns. In fact, it wasn’t until three years ago that things really started moving forward, and a lot of that, Merit thought, was thanks to her.
Twenty-eight thousand people were now on or near the tarmac of the great ship, cheering and participating in a huge show of wealth and pride as the ship prepared to take off.  There would be over a thousand passengers, the most intelligent and important members of Pallas society. Being chosen to go aboard the first voyage was an incredible honor. Ev
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The Gods' Will
Hodeck stared up at what the gods had wrought and considered the sight without fear. One thing Hodeck had learned in the many years he had served his Chieftain was that the gods were pernicious and capricious, but they weren't random. With the right offerings and a little luck, the right gods would think the right things at the right times, and Garth Gwynned, or Garth the Grim as he was known to all the chiefs and petty kings on the Neck, was a man who had divined the gods' will and won their favor more times than any other man alive.
Garth stood furthest up the low rise, one hand sitting heavily on the longsword strapped to his waist. Hodeck and Garth's son, Garth Gaptooth, stood a dozen feet behind him, while the rest of the Grim's warband milled about further back, waiting for a command.
They were all staring up at the great pillar of light, and at the summit of the hill, which hung in midair fifty feet from the crater it had been pulled out of.
A month ago, before the sun had risen
:iconcreativelycliche:creativelycliche 1 0

Random from Ars Poetica

You're the shape
in my peripherals,
tricking my eyes
and the ghosts
behind my eyelids,
playing my mind.
I pray for satisfaction,
and I grant you my pain;
you're the god whom,
when I'm drowning,
only gives me the rain.
And I guess
I'm the tape
over your mouth and nose,
keeping your breath
and the dead
weight upon your heart,
under your breast.
You yearn for satisfaction,
only taking the pain.
You're the god whom,
through the desert,
can't remember her name.
:iconfiaell:Fiaell 8 5
Before I Can Become a Writer
Dye your hair blue. Walk into school 3 hours late.
Flip off the head teacher. Get excluded.
Write about it. Scratch it into desks.
Paint it on the bathroom stalls with a marker pen.
Do it again.
Wake up at 6 in the afternoon. Chain smoke.
Write at 3 in the morning when the world is quiet enough.
Use too many metaphors about the stars
because the moon feels too close and
because it feels like the sky will fall down.
Buy a fountain pen that is way too expensive.
Don't use it. Lose it. Use a biro instead.
Use a pencil. Use anything you can find.
Talk to your friends in literary quotes
because you think it will make you sound poetic.
Like someone. Call it love. Write about how
your love will change the world. Don't stop until
you don't know how to think of anything else.
Watch him screw you over. Watch him screw her.
Watch him. Think about him. Tell him you loved him.
Don't mean it. You never meant it.
Choke down whisky. Choke down pills.
Tell them you're having a fantastic time.
:iconjaydanjercobain:JayDanjerCobain 13 8
Tobacco and Peppermint
We wait in the car outside,
my hand dangling from the window,
my fingernails kissed with fog.
Silvery curls of smoke
rise like a dragon's breath
from the thing between my fingers.
You look at me, horrified,
staring at the black and blue
stains upon my tongue,
the marks of damage
cutting deep into my skin,
deep beneath tissue,
deep enough to corrode my bones.
I'm living in someone else's death,
borrowing a pair of cheap, shriveled lungs
that rattle loosely like leaves
in my chest.
I exhale a fresh, decaying breath,
and though I try to be diplomatic,
I know in my heart I'm just mocking you.
"Those things are gonna kill you,"
you tell me, all sage wisdom and disapproval
and sudden concern for my well-being.
"It's six bucks for a pack of cancer."
I try to laugh, and cough
then laugh some more
at the fact that I can't breathe.
In a greasy ashtray, I stamp out
my last flimsy cigarette,
ash and sorrow lying dead
in the dimly lit embers.
If only I could stamp you out
as easily as I've stamped
:iconlittleblueraccoon:littleblueraccoon 40 27
death of impurity
gold liquid
poured over alabaster faces
expressionless desires
hid within our chameleon heats
ever changing
with the tides
shimmering across the plains of the moon
every crater and hill
the imperfections that make you
utterly perfect
and desirable
with gold-leaf skin
and sterling smiles
where my black and white soul
longs to reside
in the recesses of your mind
forever there
like the moon we see
hung in the void
stationary, silent, sure
always watching
waiting for the moment
in which our hearts meet
on the golden shores
of an endless sea of white eternity
and we say you've been my forever dream
the cliches we can't hide
behind silly smiles
but the gold slips like air between our fingers
and the white fades to black
as our dream gives a final breath
to the fantasy of our thoughts
and the white sea yellows with time
and our bright hearts are dimmed
as the gold liquid melts to our skin
and draws every imperfection
that makes us us
and they say 'they will never last'
so the gold burn
:iconmycrimsonheart:mycrimsonheart 1 3
[there's a loudness] you exude. i don't
think these wisdom teeth ever got pulled out
or cared for. while
you only listen to classic rock
brahms's hungarian dance no.5 &
sometimes the woodpecker
trying to work its way
into your heart. i bet
you are less confident than you seem. i
bet you carefully fold
your apostrophes,
that your lonely nights are nothing
more than salty alcohol & teaspoons
of self-pity.
as the violins grumble & louder, louder—
[i know] you wither, wish for the horned man in the night.
:iconforaoises:foraoises 16 9
dragonfly wings
i. There is an entire generation of humans who grew up learning how to be murderers,
learning how to wound creatures for an audience and a laugh, and oh
how they love to laugh, pigtailed executioners
and torturers of all that frail life
that could be contained in a quiet garden.
ii. They take spiders by their bellies and put them one each on two ends of a stick,
and they poke and prod and push until one decides to eat the other,
for there must be a duel, there must be a death, or there is no fun,
and the children will race off to find new things to hurt.
They take dragonflies by the wings and stick their jewel tails into electric sockets,
playing god in their pajamas, leaving peanut butter fingerprints
on the little pockets of heaven they find and fight over,
keeping the pretty pieces for their scrapbooks, like you could trap life
beneath scotch tape and label it between lines red-blue-red.
iii. Well maybe they know better, if you want to believe there's a muted brilliance
:iconneonsquiggle:neonsquiggle 45 20
Tomorrow, We Leave for Home
i drown in your --
synaesthesiac elixir (vivid angel lights)
and you ripple, jade, evergreen into
  an olden halcyon year; timeworn
you resuscitate me
  past, ambrosian, forgotten effervescence
head in the gossamer clouds,
a waterfall of moonshine
thieving stars;
beads of pixie dust condense on
  your coiffure of cinnamon; auburn; mahogany
        i'm engulfed
   harbinger of yesterday
whereas tomorrow, we leave for home
:iconaerode:Aerode 11 12
pedestrian gazer
plexiglass walls
on Gibbs street
allow me to spill over like rooftop smoke
crowning fourteen floor towers
so that i can haunt hazy skies
exist in pits of stomachs
i am already opaque
so let me climb pipes
reach extend and rise
i want to fly
:iconspellspeaker:Spellspeaker 11 3
her hair is the color of
ocean bewilderment,
and the setting sea is as
still as her newborn
her pinky has sold itself
for a tainted compromise,
and her soft lips
tremble at the creaking
of autumn.
baby blue blankets
are huddled with lowly
and she is your
she suddenly
pretend you're falling,
i'll be here to catch
:iconunseen-reality:Unseen-reality 12 12
Mature content
your mind is tossing on the ocean :iconsense-and-stupidity:sense-and-stupidity 8 13
Wish for it
we'll be whole forever
basking in this light
never glancing over shoulders
for the loss to come.
we can watch the skies-
I can look into
your eyes
and never think about who's
just beyond my gaze.
I can kiss your lips
your hands around my
waist, my hips;
we'll stay forever here,
so close
without the fear of pain.
:iconnaethebookaddict:NaeTheBookAddict 2 0
Progression, progression, progression
You are no where near me yet I can feel your breath on my neck;
the moist mist of your putrid c02 evade my nostrils like mustard gas.
and all I can do, and will do
is look out the window at the passing cars, blurring like a vomited
Pablo Picasso conception.
It makes me sick so I close my eyes and focus on the
:iconwithlove-fromme:WithLove-FromMe 6 13
Black liquorice roses
Pillow case fears are more than they say--
aching and engulfing, a sick triumph
keeping you awake.
It wasn't supposed to be like this, they said,
but who are they? Nameless faces in blurred automobiles,
passing you by,
and passing and passing and passing.
Do they still keep you awake?--
Those night time phantoms in their black Chevys and their nicotine smiles.
Black liquorice roses did well enough to pass the time,
but now time passes them.
And all you're left with are the ghosts of broken minute hands.
:iconrosella-of-daventry:Rosella-of-Daventry 5 9
the death of october.
Trees toss bits of paper into ponds
and something inside of me ignites
like a jack-o'-lantern. I smile
crooked and toothy
as my insides are scooped out
and replaced with flames. Prop me
on a windowsill
for all to see: the husk of a human
with the grin of a ghost, the perfect
holiday decoration to be tossed
into the garbage
when the season ends.
:iconohellohara:ohellohara 7 7
he turns
a lightning rod
my close proximity
pulling in
from the warm air
that clouds in
around us-
our fingertips
send licks of light
through us,
the smell;
all the hair
on his body
into oblivion-
and so
how electric
his conduct
:iconjade-pandora:Jade-Pandora 13 24
The Rot of Flowers
I am so bored of flowers.
I dream in wounds
And I am bored of trees
Stretching to heaven;
They'll never reach.
I want to see the rot within,
Scrambling insects
gnawing on the insides,
I want to taste the pollution,
The city's poison
To distill, bottle, and sell
- humanity for consumption
I want to scrape off the makeup,
Turn the flesh inside out
And lick the rot.
Only then will flowers be beautiful.
2013 themagpiepoet
:iconthemagpiepoet:themagpiepoet 167 48
This collection is reserved for writing that I find truly magnificent, that surpasses expectations, and captures something real, true, or moving.

Daily Deviations

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My Work (As free downloads!)

:star::star::star::star::star-half:4.57 :star::star::star::star::star:5.0
© 2010-2018

A special paperback edition of "Selling the Sunrise" can also be purchased here!

On Amazon for $0.99: Selling the Sunrise Life at the Limits

Books For Sale


HORIZONS cover by creativelycliche

HORIZONS is a book of conceptual glitch poetry focusing on the story of CRESSIDA, an artificial intelligence program, and it's journey through it's new plane of sentience.

Purchase it digitally: Amazon for $2.99
or physical copies can be ordered from Lulu for $6.99 plus shipping.

The Queen’s Debt

The Queen's Debt by creativelycliche

In Rannawr, there is only one legend that matters. Lanis Soren, Queen of Thorns, once ruled a kingdom of startling wealth and power. But when she died, the world plunged into darkness.

Now Stassa lives in the ruins of that civilization, working as a sellsword to survive. When a wizard appears in town recruiting for a quest and promising untold wealth from the old kingdom, Stassa bites the hook, but she is destined for something much greater...

Get it on Amazon digitally or physically

FFM 2018

Journal Entry: Mon Jun 18, 2018, 5:32 PM
Those who have followed me for a long time might recall that I often participate in Flash Fiction Month (The Hydra be Praised). Last year I did not as I was on a cruise in Alaska for the first week of July. Through no efforts of my own, that's happening again this year (look, I'm not going to turn down an invitation to get on a boat for a week for no cost.) 

That said, I am planning on doing FFM this year, just with something of a.... twist, I guess. I a going to write my first seven-eight submissions in the next two weeks and then have them post on the right days (unfortunately I can't schedule the comments on the journals, but alas, I can only move small mountains. Ant mountains, if you will. Mountantains. Ahem.)

Additionally, my plan this year is to put to use one of the most beautiful gifts I've ever been given, namely, a book of art by the RIDICULOUSLY talented John Harris. Who is John Harris, you ask? Well, he is the artist behind countless science fiction book covers, including covers of Ann Leckie's Ancillary series, Orson Scott Card's Ender and Shadow series, as well as books by John Scalzi, Arthur C. Clarke, and Isaac Asimov. The book is called "Beyond the Horizon" and it's fucking gorgeous. Here's a taste: 

Image result for john harrisImage result for john harrisImage result for john harrisImage result for john harris

So here's the plan: Use images in the book to inspire some flash fiction sci-fi. Write seven or eight ahead of time since I will have no access to internet on the big boat. Have those timed to submit on the correct days so that I am least in theory participating. That's pretty much it. Thanks for taking time to read this, and as always, thank you for watching me and making my writing feel like something worth pursuing. I'll continue to do my best.


This Journal Skin was designed by Night-Beast


creativelycliche's Profile Picture
Artist | Professional | Literature
United States
Hello! I'm creativelycliche, purveyor of the arts, well-established faker, and 'that guy with the weird sense of humor'.

You may have noticed that I write things. That might be why you're here, but that's none of my business. If you would like to know more about my writing, you can buy my books, visit my website, or like my facebook page. I do all my own stunts.

I don't recommend you follow my tumblr.

Additionally, I play video games. My xboxlive is a crazed rodent, and I'm better than you at Rock Band. It would be best if you just accept that.


Literature tag by NotAGoddess


Fallen behind on Flash Fiction Month after coming back from the cruise. Got a cold on the way back and spent the last two days feeling like a computer with the power strip unplugged. Hopefully can catch up.
If you haven't picked it up yet, my novelette "The Queen's Debt" is free from now until Friday (March 16) on Kindle!
Might be a little lighter on here than usual. March is a busy fundraising month and I'm pushing my poetry energy into writing for a new collection, tentatively titled "The Flyover States"

Praise for =creativelycliche

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creativelycliche [has] a fiercely intelligent mind which shows in his work. -Aerode

I certainly think [he] ha[s] a wonderful talent... perhaps one I am envious of :giggle:. -Nullibicity

One of my dA literary heroes - friendlyneighbor

(In a review of Selling the Sunrise)
"I thought that life had devoured my romantic streak but then this little book of poetry made me cry and I realized that my flame still burns."



Add a Comment:
bookcrusher Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Student Writer
Hey, Josh! Just wanted to say thank you for the llama :D
(1 Reply)
oviedomedina Featured By Owner Jul 9, 2018
Thank you very much for the Watch, Josh!
Hope you enjoy my galllery!
(1 Reply)
JensKaliYios Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the Llama!
TheLunaLily Featured By Owner May 30, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for adding my poem “Girl With a Switchblade Tongue” to your favorites! :heart: :heart: :heart:
(1 Reply)
LancelotPrice Featured By Owner May 7, 2018
Thanks for adding me to your watchlist, Josh. :)
(1 Reply)
randomMeAndBob Featured By Owner May 3, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you very much for the fave! :D
(1 Reply)
philologie Featured By Owner Apr 8, 2018
Hola! Thank you for the faves bunneh icon3 
(1 Reply)
leoskys Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2018
Thanks for the llama:D (Big Grin) 
thousand-streams Featured By Owner Mar 2, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the support. :)
(1 Reply)
madam--guillotine Featured By Owner Feb 17, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
:happybounce: +fav 
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