MuertoMushroom

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Keeper of the World by MuertoMushroom, literature

Literature

Keeper of the World

A girl on the periphery, a woman, a young woman, always spurned in love? No, convinced that she is deserving of a good love. Or maybe an okay love. And maybe he is cruel to her. Or maybe she is cruel only to herself. A woman who loves so much it aches in her center, aches like the way your mouth feels when you take too big a sip of scalding coffee. She is scorned in love, spurned in love, and scalded in love. Is she empty? No, she is full of words, maybe, too many words. She’s too smart for her own good- why can’t she just love simply? Why are some truths so goddamned difficult to face about yourself? Why can’t she get him

Manic Pixie Clarifies by MuertoMushroom, literature

Literature

Manic Pixie Clarifies

I’m not a bad person I read your poems Curious and furious They made me feel sick When I was eighteen, Discovering riot grrrl and anarchism, I thought quirks like butterfly wings Were safer than letting anyone in. I saw him all kinds of vulnerable At a private pity party November, 2011 When we killed a bottle of vodka And I told him Our New Year’s Resolutions Should be to go to therapy. I fell in love with my best friend He threatened to break the skin My layers of novacaine So I could pretend that The monster in bed Beside me every night Didn’t really exist. To prevent bleeding, I cut off a limb. So, you see, One of th

Mister Mine by MuertoMushroom, literature

Water Meditation by MuertoMushroom, literature

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Keeper of the World by MuertoMushroom, literature

Literature

Keeper of the World

Manic Pixie Clarifies by MuertoMushroom, literature

Literature

Manic Pixie Clarifies

Mister Mine by MuertoMushroom, literature

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DA Lit : Who We Are by linaket, journal

DA Lit : Who We Are

Oct 30, 2011

I am proud to be exclusively a literature artist. I really don't know how to do anything else. Here on DA, Literature is not necessarily under appreciated by most of the people in the community, it is just widely ignored. I think, really, many of us are completely okay with that. For the most part, we aren't here for popularity. We are here for each other. We don't have thousands of followers. We don't have millions of faves. But for the most part, we have been able to find other artists that help us to refine our art. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I truly cannot express the appreciation and love that I have for my frie

Suffocating by betwixtthepages, literature

Dialogue Workshop by raspil, journal

Dialogue Workshop

Jun 15, 2013

I want this workshop to be somewhat different from other workshops -- I'm going to break this down into two categories: technical elements and personal advice. And I hate to say this, but the following information in this workshop only works if applied. Osmosis and good intentions do not work. Sorry. PRE-EMPTIVE TLDR NUTSHELL To write effective dialogue, there has to be a basic understanding of what communication is. Wikipedia sums it up nicely: the meaningful exchange of information between two or more people. It's easy but not at the same time. TECHNICAL This has to do with actual concepts for crafting effective dialogue. For

A Pessimist's Optimism

I 'could' write about kittens by MuertoMushroom, literature

Literature

I 'could' write about kittens

Some days, you wake up and you miss the bus. Other days, you catch the bus and the bus catches on fire. The point is, one day you won't wake up at all, and then the bus doesn't matter anyway. I pained over the order of the following stories (and poems!) but I still don't think it's in the right order. "What do all of these works of brilliant art have in common?" you may ask. I'll tell you. They're all about people and relationships between different people and the shenanigans that ensue from the kookiest match-ups! But don't be fooled. They all have a sense of cynical isolation that I can't help- I am a disillusioned sophomore, after all.

Love is Orange Juice by MuertoMushroom, literature

Confessions of a Nude Model by MuertoMushroom, literature

Literature

Confessions of a Nude Model

I had been standing on the pedestal on-and-off for about three hours. My legs were getting tired, but at least it wasn't cold. Around me, below me, eleven art majors and one environmental major pressed and pulled and shaped my body. Well, the enviro major had actually produced something that looked more like ET with breasts than me. As the last minutes of work time ticked away, the radio began to play Nelly's "Hot in Herre." I laughed and tried not to dance along to the song. I turned another forty-five degrees and was again met with the penetrating sapphire eyes of one of the male art students. You would think that taking your clothes off

Built Like a Poem by MuertoMushroom, literature

Literature

Built Like a Poem

There she is. Green eye sun shower in the summer. A cosmos of curves mapping out the constellations of her soul. She spins and she sees me on the side and dances over. She grips my hand and pulls me into the fray and with anybody else it wouldn't happen. But to refuse her would be blasphemy. I am worshipping her with my body, motion in prayer, offering up everything that's inside, that was always inside, giving it to her. I am the slain goat bleeding, the golden idol smelted, the flood, the fire, and the pillars of salt. But she is the dove, calming the writhing, slithering snake of self-doubt, self-torture that squirms inside my gut each mi

With Nothing But Her Shoes On by MuertoMushroom, literature

Literature

With Nothing But Her Shoes On

Amy was sitting on the toilet. The lid was down and the lights were off. She was repeating the phrase, 'shut up,' again and again in her head. Nugget, the dog, was barking. Dove, the baby, was crying. Allen, the husband, was watching television. The sound was turned all the way up. "Mom!" The son, Austin, was calling for her. "Mommy!" Amy took a shuddering breath, steeled herself, and opened the bathroom door. "What?" Austin's wide blue eyes stared up at her. "Dad said to ask you about Nugg's rabies paperwork." His voice was full of snot and she loathed it. "What about Nugg'd rabies paperwork?" She asked, each word a carefully plac

Lover-Boy Waits by MuertoMushroom, literature

Literature

Lover-Boy Waits

Lover-Boy sat on the park bench with his legs crossed at the knee. He shook his brown bangs out of his brown eyes and adjusted his grey pea coat. Dead leaves rattled across the park path and still Lover-Boy waited. He pulled a pack of Havana Ovals from his coat pocket, along with a purple BIC lighter, lit up, and put everything else away. He delicately smoked the Queen-sized cigarette. Waiting. Lover-Boy watched the passersby, imagining them to be different characters from his favorite stories. The muscled young man there was Genet's Darling Daintyfoot. And the attractive youth with the tennis racket was certainly Vidal's young Jim Willard.

an Optimist's Pessimism by MuertoMushroom, literature

Literature

an Optimist's Pessimism

I am the poet of ice and honey I am the poet of scrambled eggs I am filled with icy lust with burning indifference I am the optimist you shun the optimist you hate the pessimist to myself within, without, and late at night inside, I cry outside, I smile, or laugh, or groan but inside, I fear all over I sing and vibrate with love I have flapping wings made of lace made of moth's breath carefully made without wax when I fly too close to the sun I get a nice, even tan and a headache I have a tail, too furry, and black, with a hard, bone tip sometimes it pokes me in the eye or deeper or lower which is okay if you like that

Summer Skin Draft by MuertoMushroom, literature

Literature

Summer Skin Draft

It was the summer of the bad smell and I was fourteen years old. Katie and I met on a swing set. I had opted out of camp and spent the first few days regretting it- all of my friends were in other countries or gone to their own away-camps. I was sitting on a swing rereading Margaret Peterson Haddix's Just Ella. It was one of those comfortable books that, boyfriendless, I would slip into in order to escape adolescence. "Hey!" Katie's energetic voice startled me as she plopped into the swing next to mine. "Oh." I carefully marked my place and closed the book. "Hi." "I'm Katie. I'm visiting my Grandma for the summer." "I'm Ella," I repl

Deviation Spotlight

Keeper of the World by MuertoMushroom, literature

Literature

Keeper of the World

MuertoMushroom

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About MuertoMushroom

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Artist // Literature

Jan 8
United States
Deviant for 18 years
They / Them

My Bio

What are you even doing here.

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MuertoMushroom

Dec 17, 2022

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MuertoMushroom

Jun 26, 2015

I've been published

0 min read

God, wow. I am so bad at keeping up with this website. I keep coming here once a year or so now, thinking I'll just deactivate my account, but then I get overwhelmed by the amount of work saving everything would be and I just let this account limp along. So, if you're still out there, let me give you some links: I've got a blog now, which you may find here. It doesn't update regularly, but it's the best way to get news when and if my work appears anywhere. I also write about my experience as an MFA candidate and thoughts about what it means to be a writer. A story of mine called "An Emptiness That Burns" was recently published in an anthol

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MuertoMushroom

Jul 19, 2014

I basically just stopped watching everybody

0 min read

I've been on this website for almost ten years and I'm not sure how much of my watch list is relevant still or how much of it I still want to be watching. If you're still watching me (and still want to watch me) let me know in the comments! Over the next few months I'll be massively clearing out my gallery, just a heads up. News for me: I've sold a short story! It will be appearing in an anthology slated for this November. So, again, if you're still following along and still want to be, keep an eye out here for more updates about that.