recklesslyforgotten's avatar
is bursting with fruit flavour.
73 Watchers14.6K Page Views21 Deviations
T
Twilight
Swift as stolen melody, we dance on the edge of sound. It is in the darkness of falling leaves that we cling for clarity, and stumble in calculation to some sinking resolve. Watch the stars burn themselves clean. Had we ever brought this careless side of self to light, we could have painted a softer shade of morning tonight. Just smile. We remember nothing. Stand still; listen to the promises of faded photographs, of moving timepieces. We're living twilight through the meaning of goodbye.
Rugged Violet
0
0
S
Skyline
The borders of my mind echo with the soft hum of comforting sound; in this place, this moment, I've sewn the pace for me and you. Unchartered and unexpected, I find my heart - myself - stolen by sharing syllables in open conversation, and ending days with the whispered words that shatter the miles that part us. This is our time. Tomorrows and the days that pass are ever intertwined in thoughts of you; this is my constant, my cure, and the sole bearing of eternity beyond the skyline.
C
Coloured
And here we are again, the candle still smoldering on the table next to the book that sits idle, unused – the spine crinkled by nothing but a shelf’s stiff form. The paintings hang in their canvases, blurred still by the plastic that drapes over the nail-ridden frames, and dulled only by the sun’s searing gaze as it reflects light onto the popcorn strewn about floor. Voices shout obscenities from a television that blares, while a radio sits on but muted against the wall. And here we sit, mindlessly laughing at the green-light colours that flash across the screen, as shades of black and white annihilate the backgr
I
Incessant Breaking
Faces blink numbers as moments strewn across a wall, where the eyes shift, turn, and try to ignore the rising dawn. Blink, beep, butcher the peace of soft pillows and warm sheets beneath the darkened lampshades and prying blinds. Bitter-winged morning, catch and embrace the pouncing time, where paper and punch-ins and the newest implication of a lie sets to unfold. In persistent change, the clock waits, a static cause for early-morning concordance.
T
To The Fiend
Heartbeat quickens. This is a casual mold, where we lose sense of the time and the grasp of stressing lines – we take a breath. First sip: the day is melting. In this warm embrace, we shake the twinge of guilt creeping up for taking but a moment to ourselves. Now sound takes precedence, blending shadows with voices as we drift from our self-secluded screen and find the lost word on a sacrificed shred of paper. The day finally slows, and we’re brought to the place of cloudy clarity, where we’ve found concept in a steaming cup.
S
Seclusion
Ignore the timestamps and the bodies that shift throughout the room, as we clasp hands and eyes in an effort to keep from falling. Rustling fabric escorts the musical undertones as a hundred other pairings struggle to keep the beat. But there’s no music; the sound of pounding hearts and creeping clocks begin to chime at passing moments, and we vaguely become aware of the breaching faces strewn about the floor. This is our refuge, and in our binding eyes, we find the time.
C
Chasing Notions
Play the innocent. Look for the hero in the boy who taught you that life isn’t about love, only falling. Chase the moment where you looked into the eyes of a stranger and found a heart worth saving. Then run. Lose your grasp on stable in the dance of hasty conversation, then look to shaken bodies and short-lived nights for some half-witted escape against the bedpost. Fumble for time. Know that tomorrow won’t ask for reasons as you shrink beneath the covers of your own four-posted bed, where the only sign of breaking is a tear-stained pillow.
T
The Art of Waking
As sleep etches its sought embrace around your shoulders, the calm leaks into every pore as a chemical dance between mind and desire. But it doesn’t last. Its comfort surrounds you, buries you, and brings you to the haven of silent clocks and silky sheets, then you find yourself in the twisted state between the waking and the dream. And as you surface to this conscious place of misunderstanding, all you find are the questions about the chase, and the capture, and what stole you from your sleep.
G
Grievances Against Walls
Punctuate the air with another witty comment to hide the biding fear that lies below. This is your mark, your ploy to prove that words and the constant struggle with misdemeanour cannot faze you. Resolve yourself to ideas of your own misfortune, and remain blind to the fact that you bring it on yourself as you string along a harem of excuses that exist only as the fashion of your pride. Pretend you have your reasons in your effort to ignore the outstretched arms of consideration and well-intentioned dispute, while bearing the weight of adamancy on your shirt.
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T
Twilight
Swift as stolen melody, we dance on the edge of sound. It is in the darkness of falling leaves that we cling for clarity, and stumble in calculation to some sinking resolve. Watch the stars burn themselves clean. Had we ever brought this careless side of self to light, we could have painted a softer shade of morning tonight. Just smile. We remember nothing. Stand still; listen to the promises of faded photographs, of moving timepieces. We're living twilight through the meaning of goodbye.
Rugged Violet
0
0
S
Skyline
The borders of my mind echo with the soft hum of comforting sound; in this place, this moment, I've sewn the pace for me and you. Unchartered and unexpected, I find my heart - myself - stolen by sharing syllables in open conversation, and ending days with the whispered words that shatter the miles that part us. This is our time. Tomorrows and the days that pass are ever intertwined in thoughts of you; this is my constant, my cure, and the sole bearing of eternity beyond the skyline.
C
Coloured
And here we are again, the candle still smoldering on the table next to the book that sits idle, unused – the spine crinkled by nothing but a shelf’s stiff form. The paintings hang in their canvases, blurred still by the plastic that drapes over the nail-ridden frames, and dulled only by the sun’s searing gaze as it reflects light onto the popcorn strewn about floor. Voices shout obscenities from a television that blares, while a radio sits on but muted against the wall. And here we sit, mindlessly laughing at the green-light colours that flash across the screen, as shades of black and white annihilate the backgr
I
Incessant Breaking
Faces blink numbers as moments strewn across a wall, where the eyes shift, turn, and try to ignore the rising dawn. Blink, beep, butcher the peace of soft pillows and warm sheets beneath the darkened lampshades and prying blinds. Bitter-winged morning, catch and embrace the pouncing time, where paper and punch-ins and the newest implication of a lie sets to unfold. In persistent change, the clock waits, a static cause for early-morning concordance.
T
To The Fiend
Heartbeat quickens. This is a casual mold, where we lose sense of the time and the grasp of stressing lines – we take a breath. First sip: the day is melting. In this warm embrace, we shake the twinge of guilt creeping up for taking but a moment to ourselves. Now sound takes precedence, blending shadows with voices as we drift from our self-secluded screen and find the lost word on a sacrificed shred of paper. The day finally slows, and we’re brought to the place of cloudy clarity, where we’ve found concept in a steaming cup.
S
Seclusion
Ignore the timestamps and the bodies that shift throughout the room, as we clasp hands and eyes in an effort to keep from falling. Rustling fabric escorts the musical undertones as a hundred other pairings struggle to keep the beat. But there’s no music; the sound of pounding hearts and creeping clocks begin to chime at passing moments, and we vaguely become aware of the breaching faces strewn about the floor. This is our refuge, and in our binding eyes, we find the time.
C
Chasing Notions
Play the innocent. Look for the hero in the boy who taught you that life isn’t about love, only falling. Chase the moment where you looked into the eyes of a stranger and found a heart worth saving. Then run. Lose your grasp on stable in the dance of hasty conversation, then look to shaken bodies and short-lived nights for some half-witted escape against the bedpost. Fumble for time. Know that tomorrow won’t ask for reasons as you shrink beneath the covers of your own four-posted bed, where the only sign of breaking is a tear-stained pillow.
T
The Art of Waking
As sleep etches its sought embrace around your shoulders, the calm leaks into every pore as a chemical dance between mind and desire. But it doesn’t last. Its comfort surrounds you, buries you, and brings you to the haven of silent clocks and silky sheets, then you find yourself in the twisted state between the waking and the dream. And as you surface to this conscious place of misunderstanding, all you find are the questions about the chase, and the capture, and what stole you from your sleep.
G
Grievances Against Walls
Punctuate the air with another witty comment to hide the biding fear that lies below. This is your mark, your ploy to prove that words and the constant struggle with misdemeanour cannot faze you. Resolve yourself to ideas of your own misfortune, and remain blind to the fact that you bring it on yourself as you string along a harem of excuses that exist only as the fashion of your pride. Pretend you have your reasons in your effort to ignore the outstretched arms of consideration and well-intentioned dispute, while bearing the weight of adamancy on your shirt.
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Deviant for 15 years
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October
I'm going to be living in the USA before the end of 2009... Wow. It's funny how things happen so fast. For the past eight months, I've been living on eggshells it seems, as my entire life was hanging on a date I didn't know/have at the time. Didn't know when to give notice to my employer. Didn't know when to book all my fancy (and highly unnecessary) medical exams. Didn't know when to book visits across the border, or when I'd be finally packing and moving along. After one phone call, there are now countless markings on my calendar, and my life is finally headed towards a goal I know, can see, can prepare for. It's incredible. And it's co
August
One year, 2000+ deviantions, close to the same number of notes, messages, notices and the like... It's been a long time. I don't know what compelled a visit to what once was my little home within the web, and yet lingering over the work of familiar artists for last couple of hours has proven to be a welcomed change of pace. So much of my time right now is focused on the essence of change. A silly thing to say, of course, as our lives are nothing if not a string of shifting moments. But how many times can we stop and say, "That - that right there - is what changed it for me," and recognize the instant that we said the right thing or found t
What are your feelings on MTV and the videos they strea...
  |  9 votes
  • I love MTV. It's the only thing I ever have on.
  • I never watch tv anyways.
  • It's great. I love the popularity my favourite bands get from their videos.
  • I think videos often ruin the band's original song. I don't like any of those music channels.
  • I don't really have an opinion on this.
  • Videos are a lame attempt at trying to generate popularity for a band.

Comments237

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craaftycroft's avatar
i am in need of assistance
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artyarta's avatar
Thank you soo much for the :+fav:!!! :hug:

xx
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Grijander's avatar
I like your photo of "Arctic Skies"
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insaneone's avatar
Hello there my fellow deviant and how is your weekend? :)
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LauraMossop's avatar
Thanks for the watch! Hope your well, take care !! :Heart:
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drsmith's avatar
Sorry for the late reply, thanks for the fav on
sleepy kitten :bow:
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