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James the Female
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Three Hims, a Car, and a Tired Heart

Semi-Sweet Home

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Semi-Sweet Home

i. Someday maybe they’ll find a way to pin every piece of a moment and share it in the clouds, but they haven’t yet so I have to write you the sticky weight of a summer night drive on I-40, alone with the music and the lightning bug still glowing green on the windshield. There’s the scent of sun-baked honeysuckle, sweet in the cooling dark, and the so-Southern smell of cowshit, the earthy green that makes nostrils instinctively contract, but there’s nothing quite like the low tide mud funk of my sun-dyed, muddy barefeet childhood to bring home-tears to my eyes. ii. “You’ve got quite a reputation around her

Hotel Ghosts

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Hotel Ghosts

“I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I'd never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds….my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.” --Jack Kerouac, On The Road i. Old Northern Man’s voice broke saying she was gone, fifty years together yesterday, and now she’s gone, no face across his in the booth. His shaking fingers, warped like old pier planks, tried to scrub the tears before they fell because he was old-fashioned as a gin martini and men like him don’t cry

The Socks of Strangers

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The Socks of Strangers

I’ve started a collection of stranger’s socks. Unintentional – they spin into the dryer-ravine, then get lost in my sweatshirt sleeves or cling to my t-shirts, winding up in the sock drawer with the other singles. Sometimes I get a pair near to matching and fold the odd couple in chimeric matrimony, but most often they are made for the one week girlfriend whose shoes remain outside in the hall, or the man below me who likes blue lint between his toes or the guy with the briefcase who’s midnight tired from his silvering dreads to his silk-threadbare shin socks. I always imagine these owners, these faces seen in passin

The sub's Prayer

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The sub's Prayer

Our Lord, which art in heaven on earth, Master be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on our knees as it is in shibari. Give us this day our holy dread, and forgive us our trespasses once we have been thoroughly punished for them. Leave us not without your handcuffs, but deliver us to submission: For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the safeword: Amen.

Power

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Power

I told you if I went to jail I’d kill you. He said it; dream-he repeats in this breed of him-nightmares where I am running not laying, screaming not silent. It sounds coffin-hollow, not his lips forming this explanation for the butterfly reflected in eyes mirror-flat. Dream-terror screaming, I barricade the door to the room where once there was a bed where once he said he loved me where it’s still written on the wall and call the police. It is in the slow rise from sleep that I realize his smallness, contracted to an adolescence that could not stop me stopping him.

Your Body

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Your Body

I hate society, and I always thought it was because I was some sort of anarchist—and maybe that's still undecided— but I really hate society because it made you uncomfortable with your body and of all the bodies I've seen (in all my whoring)— yours is my favorite— the most beautiful body I've ever seen be it in person or on a screen— a dream
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THIS is going to HURT

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the 'd' word

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the 'd' word

when i was seven years old, my mother, tear-streaks drying on her cheeks, fingered her wedding band and told me, “love hurts, sweetie, that’s how you know it’s a good love.” two days later, my father came back home. he was missing his wedding ring and when he left again, he left a handprint on my mother’s cheek that she carried with her even after the bruise was gone. i grew up without a father influence in my mother’s world and without a mother influence in my dad’s. neither of them got remarried. they had found each other and that was enough. they had found each other and that was too much. i gre

Handmade Lessons

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Handmade Lessons

He decided to raise the baby well. (He had decided this previously, but the newest plan only clicked and secured in the hardest throes of grief.) That was why he designed the baby mobile and cot from scratch. They were perfect and ready for when it returned from social services. They were filled with lessons. The baby cried as it left the social woman’s arms to the father’s calloused hands. She told him not to worry about that and it’ll be fine. He fed the crying baby as the social woman watched, and when the social woman left he took the baby to the cot. (The real one. Not the Ikea cot in the decoy nursery.) The skeleton o

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Daughter of the Coastal Forest

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Artist // Student // Literature
  • Jan 29
  • United States
  • Deviant for 12 years
  • She / Her
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My Bio
Current Age: 20
Current Residence: Cloud 4.6

...there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness, too. That was writing.
- Markus Zusack, The Book Thief

Favourite Visual Artist
Dali
Favourite Movies
Across the Universe, Artificial Intelligence, Alexander: Revisited, An Education, How to Train Your Dragon, The Thin Red Line, Star Wars, Candy, Hard Candy, Becoming Jane, Benny & Joon, Bright Star, Megamind, Remember Me, Nine
Favourite TV Shows
Archer, Family Guy, American Dad, Futurama, Fringe, Dark Matters, Game of Thrones
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Mortal Man, Beethoven, Dave Matthews, The Gaslight Anthem, Jack Johnson, Iron & Wine, Mumford & Sons, Matthew and the Atlas, Ryan Adams, Hans Zimmer, The Mountain Goats, Rise Against
Favourite Books
The Age of Innocence, Anthem, Bard: The Odyssey of the Irish, Beauty, Blood and Gold, The Book Thief, Candy, 11 Minutes, Feed, The Handmaid's Tale, Lolita, Love Among the Artists, Peter Pan, The Portrait of a Lady, The Princess Bride, This Side of Paradis
Favourite Writers
Anne Rice, Kurt Vonnegut, Charles Bukowski, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Paulo Coelho, Storm Constantine, Robin McKinley
Favourite Games
Hide and seek ^-^
Favourite Gaming Platform
PS3
Tools of the Trade
Canon, pen, paper, keyboard
Other Interests
photography, writing, movies, stimulating conversations

Blows off the dust

Blows off the dust

Wasn't really aware that anyone followed me closely to notice any prolonged absences, but apparently you exist and it warms my heart and makes me want to write. I've been incredibly busy post-grad, and even more so the past month with work (books simply refuse to edit themselves!) but I promise to try to write and revise and post more. It's been a bit of a rough patch, but I just bought groceries and called a therapist like an adult who handles her shit, so I think it will be okay. Love you, and I hope your lives inspire you to keep living.

I don't write many journals. Read this one.

I don't write many journals. Read this one.

My dear friend LostThenFound (https://www.deviantart.com/lostthenfound) has won, through hard work and general awesome-personness, the chance to go on a study abroad trip to China, and really needs some financial assistance in order to make it. I know, you're asking yourselves "Why do I give a rat's ass about her needs? I have my own needs. I don't care about her because I'm a thoughtless butt-face." And you would be right. However, we're not just talking about handing out free money; you have many options that will allow you to get the most bang for your buck. First off, you could visit her deviantart gallery and buy any one or two or three of her lovely prints. They're very

Final 6

Final 6

These are the final six poems that will be included in my portfolio for Advanced Poetry Writing. I decided to put them in a Google doc for ease of access and commenting. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ZsgU0ctKxjZORAzaFhFf-W8EsAxhpMFO0Ll9AusBi1Y/edit Some specifics: 1. In second stanza of "Nuclear Winter" I'm not sure if the line "She remembers lying in green fields, the scene/of bird-watching days..." fits. 'Scene' has to stay in there to preserve the sestina form, but I'm not sure about the rest. Is it too prosey? 2. In "Ode to the Sea," first of all, is it obvious that it's just about the sea, and not some metaphor for sex or somet

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randomMeAndBobHobbyist General Artist
Have a wonderful birthday!Birthday cake  icon 
vk.com/lolita_film_1997

here your art...
Hey good miss, I just wanted to leave you a message hoping all is well and that the excitements, adventures, and - when needed - peaceful times that life brings are keeping you away from dA and that all is well.

I wish you nothing but the best, but wanted to tell you that you are missed.
:iconbowplz:
oracle-of-nonsenseStudent Writer
Thank you very much for this message. It made my day :)
Thank you for the watch, it made mine.
Back again! did you check out our music?
Your back! will enjoy your work tomorrow when i get a chance, looking forward to it x