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deviate from the norm
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U
Untitled
SpeakEasy, somewhere in exploded Euro City. Biotech and Minimalist impression;  a nouveau, and nouveau riche, tangent impression of some college Nietzsche ideal of Brecht. It bleeds light like a stuck pig, but all in reds, whites and blacks. The drink glasses clink and crash. The speakers pump a rib-cage rattling thump. Mackie reclines, lanky and proportionate, at a tiny drink table in deep club shadow, presented in a perfect, utterly immaculate black tux tasting of the early 1900s. His faded blond hair greased just enough to give his thin skull its perfect shape. His pale blue eyes, easy and seemingly dependent on the pleasurable thrill o
Michael Hubbard rip my friend
3
1
s
storm
the storm's a comin. i'll be hapy when I wake, somewhere, and rain is pouring down to sweep clean the street. time does not heal. i miss the missing, therefore i Am. so the ground does weap, and with sadness hidden behind dreadful weather, swept under, the disparate fall beneath the spell.
r
rain, now
bloody hell just let it rain for fuck's sake. ..i'm tired of the anticipation, i'm tired of the fires; i'm sick of the dreadnaught the dust inspires; i've spent long enough time jailed in the desert... it's the dead fish in the salton sea, it's the time spent remembering, it's some kind of fleshless enemy, a boneyard in the barren sea; i only recall the rust on my tongue, a defiance of age, the coldness of loneliness, the impertinence of rage, the truth of history, the lies in the collective, the one true evil cupped lovingly in god's hand ...how hell has devoid earth, how man as disgraced love, how life has become so chea
n
nightmares vol. 1
His palm is against her forehead, for a long time. “Am I running a fever again?” No response. She lifts her head above the dashboard and squints at the gray brightness of day. Uncertain of what she sees. There’s a thick fog all around. Throws everything into fuzz, a myriad of vague forms and figures. Hard to see much of anything. Not without staring with deep concentration. She pushes herself up and tries hard to make out where they are. Some long expanse of asphalt rolling out before them. But not like a road. Almost like it, but definitely not. In the distance indistinct in the mist, a tall cylindrical building, windo
f
for Michael Hubbard
Wakeful dreams of fleshless giants Glinting in summer sunset. From great manmade sleek beasts above, Business as usual below, World without end. Children pirouetting Through diamonds of rain in A solitary sparse wave, Defying gravity, Steaming black asphalt. Shadow boxes and displays giving sentiment To sometimes wordless poems. Memory and meaning; Music and movement. Wholeness, oneness, perfection.
H
Hi My Name Is Depression
Hi! My name is Depression. I will follow you throughout your whole entire life. I will pop up at inopportune moments. I will ruin everything you love in one way or another. I will destroy you. You will swallow fistfuls of pills to kill me. You will slice yourself to ribbons to quiet me. You will lash out because maybe that may appease me. You will wish for release from this mortal coil to escape me. You will run from me. And you will always fail.
V
Views III
.:White in:. View: Close up on a slack mouth, softly feminine and young. Blood stains smeared on pale skin. White-pink lips. There is the sound of movement. Into frame, a masculine hand smoothes over the ruddy flesh. A male chin, dark with stubble. Heavy breathing. Eager tongue licking tentative lips that follow, sweeping slowly over her slack mouth. He holds his breath. His kiss is calm but insisting. Lingering. A soft moan thrums in his throat as he breathes warmth against her cheek. There is no reciprocation. The girl is still unconscious. ~ Trevor stays, trying to imprint the feel of her lips against his into his mind. Feels the d
V
Views part II
View: A glinting pool of black unfathomable depth. A temperate burgundy-auburn iris, lacking any imperfection, encircles it. Pulling back; two eyes matching in color, the whites mapped with tiny red lines of sleepless irritation. A hard, cold and severe glare beneath thick, dark brows. Three small short scars diagonal at the edge of one brow. Lids blinking quickly.  In the light of a setting sun skyline the color of a blood orange, the thin flesh frame about these eyes speak of raw focus, definitive purpose, and absolute abhorrence. Further out the view pans, pronouncing a man’s countenance. Two days unshaven. Jaw muscles working,
d
desperate
now do you see what you mean to me i would fall off the edge of the world just to catch your eye i would stand on desert sands holding lava in the palm of my hand to ignite your corona carbon marks my name in your throat
See all
U
Untitled
SpeakEasy, somewhere in exploded Euro City. Biotech and Minimalist impression;  a nouveau, and nouveau riche, tangent impression of some college Nietzsche ideal of Brecht. It bleeds light like a stuck pig, but all in reds, whites and blacks. The drink glasses clink and crash. The speakers pump a rib-cage rattling thump. Mackie reclines, lanky and proportionate, at a tiny drink table in deep club shadow, presented in a perfect, utterly immaculate black tux tasting of the early 1900s. His faded blond hair greased just enough to give his thin skull its perfect shape. His pale blue eyes, easy and seemingly dependent on the pleasurable thrill o
Michael Hubbard rip my friend
3
1
s
storm
the storm's a comin. i'll be hapy when I wake, somewhere, and rain is pouring down to sweep clean the street. time does not heal. i miss the missing, therefore i Am. so the ground does weap, and with sadness hidden behind dreadful weather, swept under, the disparate fall beneath the spell.
r
rain, now
bloody hell just let it rain for fuck's sake. ..i'm tired of the anticipation, i'm tired of the fires; i'm sick of the dreadnaught the dust inspires; i've spent long enough time jailed in the desert... it's the dead fish in the salton sea, it's the time spent remembering, it's some kind of fleshless enemy, a boneyard in the barren sea; i only recall the rust on my tongue, a defiance of age, the coldness of loneliness, the impertinence of rage, the truth of history, the lies in the collective, the one true evil cupped lovingly in god's hand ...how hell has devoid earth, how man as disgraced love, how life has become so chea
n
nightmares vol. 1
His palm is against her forehead, for a long time. “Am I running a fever again?” No response. She lifts her head above the dashboard and squints at the gray brightness of day. Uncertain of what she sees. There’s a thick fog all around. Throws everything into fuzz, a myriad of vague forms and figures. Hard to see much of anything. Not without staring with deep concentration. She pushes herself up and tries hard to make out where they are. Some long expanse of asphalt rolling out before them. But not like a road. Almost like it, but definitely not. In the distance indistinct in the mist, a tall cylindrical building, windo
f
for Michael Hubbard
Wakeful dreams of fleshless giants Glinting in summer sunset. From great manmade sleek beasts above, Business as usual below, World without end. Children pirouetting Through diamonds of rain in A solitary sparse wave, Defying gravity, Steaming black asphalt. Shadow boxes and displays giving sentiment To sometimes wordless poems. Memory and meaning; Music and movement. Wholeness, oneness, perfection.
H
Hi My Name Is Depression
Hi! My name is Depression. I will follow you throughout your whole entire life. I will pop up at inopportune moments. I will ruin everything you love in one way or another. I will destroy you. You will swallow fistfuls of pills to kill me. You will slice yourself to ribbons to quiet me. You will lash out because maybe that may appease me. You will wish for release from this mortal coil to escape me. You will run from me. And you will always fail.
V
Views III
.:White in:. View: Close up on a slack mouth, softly feminine and young. Blood stains smeared on pale skin. White-pink lips. There is the sound of movement. Into frame, a masculine hand smoothes over the ruddy flesh. A male chin, dark with stubble. Heavy breathing. Eager tongue licking tentative lips that follow, sweeping slowly over her slack mouth. He holds his breath. His kiss is calm but insisting. Lingering. A soft moan thrums in his throat as he breathes warmth against her cheek. There is no reciprocation. The girl is still unconscious. ~ Trevor stays, trying to imprint the feel of her lips against his into his mind. Feels the d
V
Views part II
View: A glinting pool of black unfathomable depth. A temperate burgundy-auburn iris, lacking any imperfection, encircles it. Pulling back; two eyes matching in color, the whites mapped with tiny red lines of sleepless irritation. A hard, cold and severe glare beneath thick, dark brows. Three small short scars diagonal at the edge of one brow. Lids blinking quickly.  In the light of a setting sun skyline the color of a blood orange, the thin flesh frame about these eyes speak of raw focus, definitive purpose, and absolute abhorrence. Further out the view pans, pronouncing a man’s countenance. Two days unshaven. Jaw muscles working,
d
desperate
now do you see what you mean to me i would fall off the edge of the world just to catch your eye i would stand on desert sands holding lava in the palm of my hand to ignite your corona carbon marks my name in your throat
T
The Sleeper.
The twinkling lights of the city gives way, as the dawn begins to creep up around the edges of the horizon. Stars dim, drowned out by purple and mauve hues, slashed through with deepening orange that turns tangerine and gold, with the rising sun. Its arrival sending the night time creatures scurrying for cover. They scamper like frightened mice into the shadows and creep down lonely alleyways, seeking the shelter of their homes and beds, to sleep until the blanket of night is cast over the city again and they can return to their trade. Almost as if terrified that if they're transfixed by the sun it will warm their blood, reminding them of the
recently written to a friend:
to my friend, who is very concerned about their friend, who has lost control -  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  a theory of mind is becoming more recognized, as feelings being the END product of a brain process or function.  one exhibits the symptoms BEFORE the mind even recognizes an emotion has been engaged. [i theorize this may be part of the process of bipolarism.  the combos of drugs taken are to alleviate the incorrect arousal of emotion - successfully, in the right mixes.] note:  emotions and feelings are not the same. emotions - happiness, sadness, anger, love, fear, anticipation, and so on. feelings -
Princess
540
22.3K
hey everyone - check this out...
and help me ask for more:
Five nights with Trevor
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4.4K
Miniature Downy Woodpecker Pair * Handmade *
74
349
GoPink! * Handmade Miniature Cat *
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733
W
Way Back Then
Remember when your older sibling was your superhero? When all you did to get ready for school was eat a bowl of cereal, no make-up involved, and the only gossip you would hear would be about how Johnny broke his arm, from climbing that big oak tree in the school yard. Remember when the basement would be a dark chasm, home to demons of horror? (Well it still sorta is...) When the biggest problem you had was forgetting how to tie your shoes, and all you had to worry about was being able to remember the way home? Yeah, I miss that too.
Stalker
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290
Cat carrying Kitten Handmade Sculpture
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403
Jun 2
United States
Deviant for 13 years
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Michael L. Hubbard
 it is with deep regret I announce the passing of Michael L. Hubbard aka  MHubbardSanDiego (https://www.deviantart.com/mhubbardsandiego) as he has passed away January 27th 2015. Michael, you were loyal, sympathetic, empathetic, kind, and wondrous. I miss you dearly, every day of my life. every Zep song is played for you. and many a sconscie has been tipped to you, within the Dance of the Dead.... .... .... ...you are loved. ...and you are dearly missed.
do i come here often?
there's little to say, i live. but how well is determined by others. i breathe. i sweat. i scavenge. i eat. i burn. i sleep. i know time. i know death. i know vice. i know love. i know. i just know.
Neue Regel
OR the new muse that teases, encouraged by the psychopath Trevor i have been working on two new piece that should remain short stories. and are in present tense. does anyone care to read these? anyone care to read these? oh and i will be in washington in a week and a day. fishing with dad.
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WingDiamond's avatar
WingDiamond|Hobbyist General Artist
:iconhappybirthday2plz:
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Destroyer77's avatar
Happy Birthday!

:iconaqua-cplz::iconaqua-aplz::iconaqua-kplz::iconaqua-eplz::iconyummycakeplz:
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WingDiamond's avatar
WingDiamond|Hobbyist General Artist
:cake:
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Destroyer77's avatar
Happy Birthday!

:iconcakeplz11::iconcakeplz12::iconcakeplz13:
:iconcakeplz14::iconcakeplz15::iconcakeplz16:
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WingDiamond's avatar
WingDiamond|Hobbyist General Artist
Scream For me Rabbit! :cake:
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