RUNNrabbitRUNN

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as you were, people by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

misfit by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

Untitled by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

Literature

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

storm by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

rain, now by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

Literature

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

nightmares vol. 1 by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

Literature

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

for Michael Hubbard by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

Literature

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.

Hi My Name Is Depression by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

Literature

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.

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as you were, people by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

misfit by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

Untitled by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

Literature

Untitled

storm by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

rain, now by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

Literature

rain, now

nightmares vol. 1 by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

Literature

nightmares vol. 1

for Michael Hubbard by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

Literature

for Michael Hubbard

Hi My Name Is Depression by RUNNrabbitRUNN, literature

Literature

Hi My Name Is Depression

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July 10th 1902 - December 1st 1951 by alapip, literature

Literature

July 10th 1902 - December 1st 1951

my dad lived his whole life in the same farmhouse and died of a heart attack in the same room where he was conceived and born forty-nine years earlier this was in Western New York State near the beautiful Letchworth State Park he saw New York City once with his cousin Clayton he traveled out of state once to Savana Georgia to visit his eldest son my oldest brother Maurice in the hospital at the airbase there Mom went with Dad Uncle Roger drove Aunt Lillian went too dad was a gentleman dairy-farmer sat on the school board for years was a fine father to six of us and worked hard till the day he died he was a generous man a good neighbor and very well respected also he was a multiple winner of the yearly Dairyman's League Picnic cow-calling contests where his call echoed from the hills though seventy years ago I can still hear his voice... and the echoes llp - dA - feb2021 DD - mar 21/2021

mist... deeply by alapip, literature

Literature

mist... deeply

in Winter we reminisce an introspective time of year especially this year our outward vision oddly liquid-blurred I don't know if I know anyone who is gone from this this time of disappearance lain upon me and they while we remain at home waiting out there the cold feels more cold where it didn't use to the warmth further away soon we're a half-million gone we suffer for our stubbornness fools claiming to be patriots tools of cultish jingoism loving THEIR 'freedom' more than life especially more than the lives of "those others" a crucial thing is missing: reality is unbidden hidden away he said it's "fake news" and here I had thought in truth "we're all in this together" llp - dA - feb2021

The Sleeper. by ItheRook, literature

Literature

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

as we follow our nature-nurture by alapip, literature

Literature

as we follow our nature-nurture

our perception our insight our entire life depends on what we gravitate toward or what we avoid via preferences grown within us foisted upon us or even possibly chosen by us - if indeed there is free will viewed in certain ways I believe that is probable even if only as a learned skill we are created altered morphed via many variables: - parentage - community - experience - inspirations - epiphanies - traumas - whatever we need to consciously realize these forces in our lives arise from random chance happenstance... the particle dance as we judge each other or ourselves we must remember to apply this truth: whether right or wrong things simply happen around us to us and through us we should be watchful for evolution's questionable 'gifts' - our evolved delusions allow various beliefs with what confidence and comfort they generally bring with also however the tribalism they often promote thus we have tribe vs tribe we stubborn humans prefer our own answers we become

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gimme alice by RUNNrabbitRUNN, visual art

gimme alice

RUNNrabbitRUNN

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About RUNNrabbitRUNN

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June 2
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Deviant for 18 years
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RUNNrabbitRUNN

Jan 18, 2021

so been a while huh

1 min read

went on hiatus for a few years. how's everyone doin?

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RUNNrabbitRUNN

Jan 18, 2021

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RUNNrabbitRUNN

Feb 9, 2015

Michael L. Hubbard

0 min read

 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.