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About Deviant Artist Wannabe WriterFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 10 Years
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Newest Deviations

Company of Comic Caricatures
My blanket of solitude is infiltrated
in the unforgiving white area
between a late evening skyline
and a lack of capital letters.
Through the fog of my astigmatism
I see
my failure at emulating the naked
figures in portraits
that make me feel dirty,
and modern, and complicated.
I make the arrangements
to abolish the word
as I drink from the milky light
the full moon presents upon the pinkie toe
that escapes-confused-from the ripped seams of my
black ballet flats.
On this cold day I speak
through quivering lips
lines I memorized from Wodehouse,
the amount of wisdom
that could fill
a Starbucks' coffee cup
in the company
of comic
:icontheseventhseal004:TheSeventhSeal004 2 12
Please Mr. Postman
The creak of the rusty ironing board, supporting the piping hot metal backside of the iron as it meets denim jeans. The dance floor shuffle of ragged white slippers against the tile of the kitchen floor. Hurried brush strokes of crayons on jumbo coloring books. The monotonous hum of the refrigerator and the constant drip, drip, drip of caffeinated liquid brewing in the coffee machine.
These ordinarily comfortable morning sounds made the nicotine-addled Beatrice want to scream.
Clad in her blue flowered nightgown, she sat on the edge of her unmade full sized bed, right leg shaking ever so slightly as she caught her reflection in the mirror. Beatrice had recently taken to dying her hair a daring shade of tomato red. The unconventional hairstyle, paired with her favorite silver hoop earrings and the gaudy pink lipstick she often wore made her look all the more ridiculous.
Beatrice was a statuesque young woman of miniscule confidence. She decided that this day--Wednesday--was the day she w
:icontheseventhseal004:TheSeventhSeal004 5 11
As I Stand, Toothbrush In Hand
The dormant demise of Marty Draper awakened at approximately seven fifteen on a cool, late October morning as dismal rain clouds steadily rolled across the slim offerings of autumnal sunlight. The setting: a magenta, rectangular shoebox of a shared family bathroom, in the presence of the creamy shower curtain, the blank roll of toilet paper, and the blocky, blue bar of soap. This moment--a flicker of oddity that aroused a staggering abundance of unnecessary insanity happens to be a twice daily ritual for billions of people gone faithfully wrong. The act that transformed Martin Allen Draper--a plucky northeastern teen with an X-Box and a constellation of shiny, red pimples on his pudgy face--to a violent, nun-murdering robot is almost unbelievable: Marty was brushing his teeth.
:icontheseventhseal004:TheSeventhSeal004 4 6
10:15 At The Oasis
Whenever a person alluded to the employees’ lounge,  a singular image always appeared in Dennis’ mind.
He always imagined a vintage, ironically titled nightclub, “The Employees’ Lounge”. Inside, the dark room was illuminated by buttery lights that captured the escaped wisps of cigar smoke. Black leather chairs and polished wooden tables were inappropriately scattered about the lounge area, yet the fashionable club dwellers managed to squeeze by the bulky pieces of furniture to intermingle, nurse the exotic concoctions prepared by the impressive bartenders, and dance to the electric jazz music which trickled off of the fingertips of the old fashioned quartet as they played underneath the liquid, blue neon lights of the stage.
In reality, Dennis often went into the correctly named employees’ lounge in the back of Tenenbaum’s Objects Emporium, located between the men’s bathroom and children’s shoe department. It was a pathetic room, w
:icontheseventhseal004:TheSeventhSeal004 1 3
Mother Trucking Peacocks
The plastic flamingos and peacocks were lined up in the abnormally green lawn, their arrangement similar to squirmy truckers queuing up in a Texaco bathroom.
:icontheseventhseal004:TheSeventhSeal004 1 0
Prose Dump: Random Ramblings 1
Buy A Vowel:
               She leans her lithe body against the refrigerator, allowing her head to fall against the freezer. The Sesame Street magnets form a mark on the back of her neck.
She holds her soda can like Audrey Hepburn holds a cigarette. Cool condensation freezes her fingertips. She takes a satisfying sip of her soda, pretending the carbonation is fireworks inside her mouth.
The apartment smells of chicken Ramen Noodles, stale popcorn, Febreze air spray, and  Death. Death surrounded the apartment, a blanket that covered the darkest corners.
Death was the cheap mint green vinyl chairs with squishy tan stuffing exposing itself through the seams. Death was the ceiling fan, its blades spinning violently. Death was the television set, the sole source for light and sound in the room. Wheel of Fortune was airing on the Game Show Network at three in the morning, the voice of Carol from St. Louis s
:icontheseventhseal004:TheSeventhSeal004 4 13
Striped Pajamas
Empty hallway
Frozen floor
Color coordinated trash cans aligned
Itchy Aeropostale hoodie
Thirty dollars, over priced
Nose ring, blond highlights
Chewing gum, synchronized rhythm
All together now
Compose a soundtrack
To a dialogue of insults
Unintended, yet hurtful
Cuts like a knife
The worst kind
Stop talking
Empty words floating in the air
Movements as intricate as a dust particle waltz
Delusions of grandeur
Terms of endearment
Scummy inside jokes about Saturday night
Terrible composition notebook poetry
High school girls
:icontheseventhseal004:TheSeventhSeal004 6 4
A Little Something
Frequently, backs were turned to us, and often times, we deserved it. There was scum clogging our streets. Dealers, and junkies sitting on the sidewalks. Terrible living conditions: brown water, an assortment of poisonous insects, horrible plumbing, lazy landlords, loud neighbors. Images of overflowing trash cans, broken down cars, buildings covered in obscene graffiti, and half naked children running around, lonely expressions on their faces. Violence, robbery, unwanted pregnancies, car theft. Gun shots, slamming doors, sirens, yelling, rioting, fighting, crying, crying, crying. It was all here, the presence of it blunt, and yet the blindest of eyes was turned to it all.
Although, sometimes, it wasn't all bad.
People from all walks of life ended up here and blended together, forming an idealistic community. The type of community where everyone was aware of the presence of others.
After spending one day here, you easily became a puzzle piece that seemed to be the perfect fit. The sight
:icontheseventhseal004:TheSeventhSeal004 2 6


Hickory Dickory Dock by Travis-Anderson Hickory Dickory Dock :icontravis-anderson:Travis-Anderson 277 176 Venus FB Banner by fyre-flye Venus FB Banner :iconfyre-flye:fyre-flye 853 47
I can only feel you when the moon and the sun decide to be friends
when I pull myself toward you, an unwilling victim of gravity
you walk out on me just like people do in the movies, but you never leave
you open the door, walk through the door, close the door, stand outside of the door
press your ear to the door
I watch you open the door and walk through the door and close the door and
I press my ear to the door
but all we hear are the stories that the door wants to tell us and they are stories about ourselves that we don't want to hear.
(I can still feel you under my skin, your words working their way up my esophagus like vines, like veins)
so let's pretend this didn't happen
that I didn't eat your heart with my breakfast cereal
that you didn't destroy me when your hands reached under my shirt
like curious fish picking away at a shark's carcass
:iconcrookedthoughts:crookedthoughts 5 6
'Make Me a Memory'
The best thing about Friday was the record store.  After school, Arthur would head towards the downtown instead of getting on the bus—he didn't live that far from school—passing familiar landmarks like Jim's Neighborhood Grocery store, the pet shop, or the gravel parking lot with weeds growing in the corners.  Heat would rise from the pavement in the summer, and in winter there was ice.  
After spending hours in the back of the store, flipping through vinyls of Jazz legends, he was on his way home when he heard a snatch of conversation.
"My wife doesn't know."
Arthur's eyebrows shot up but he continued walking.  That sounded like Mr. Elliott... his neighbor who had been married twenty years.  
"Yes!  If I'm going to surprise her for our anniversary, I'm going to do it right."  
So that was it.  Arthur smiled ruefully, glancing up at his neighbor's house.  It was a basic two story house,
:iconmackwrites:mackwrites 1 8
I Dare You To Love Me
You patrol
Surveying your beaten path with disdain.
For if the earth's organic substance were to smudge the pristine shine of your heels?
There would be hell to pay.
Inorganic is the custom of your nature,
Accrediting the sole worth of wildlife to
the skins of mink and fox. Quietly mocking
the desperation of those who save trees.
Your hair is broken,
defeated from it's natural curl,
but it rebels against each graze of the comb and brush.
Kicking and knotting against the teeth.
Waiting -
for its day of vengeance.
Despite this, you are educated.
Roving in the throes of Malcom X,
Devouring the soul of Langston Hughes, and
Singing in the cages with Maya,
Touching heart to heart with your
blooded history.
:icontuo-karhunen:Tuo-Karhunen 4 2
Pezidents of the United States by HillaryWhiteRabbit Pezidents of the United States :iconhillarywhiterabbit:HillaryWhiteRabbit 39 26 No chances by Phobs No chances :iconphobs:Phobs 7,095 771 C.H.Y.K.N. Special pg. 02 by Galistar07water C.H.Y.K.N. Special pg. 02 :icongalistar07water:Galistar07water 100 26 Born of Sea Foam by puimun Born of Sea Foam :iconpuimun:puimun 5,574 391 yes look into the light by moonmarvel yes look into the light :iconmoonmarvel:moonmarvel 5 0 writhing primordial beastie by moonmarvel writhing primordial beastie :iconmoonmarvel:moonmarvel 4 0 Founding Father Caricatures 2 by JoshMLange Founding Father Caricatures 2 :iconjoshmlange:JoshMLange 7 3



Wannabe Writer
United States
Favourite genre of music: Rock, Indie, R&B
Favourite photographer: Tikva L.
Favourite style of art: Pop Art
Operating System: Windows Vista
MP3 player of choice: iPod Touch
Favourite cartoon character: Robin (Dick Grayson) in just about anything
Personal Quote: "I dream for a living"-Steven Spielberg
Wow, my first journal entry. I don't have news or anything particulary intersting to stay, but I stumbled upon an app called "I Write Like," in which you can type a selection from one of your stories and poems to discover which author your style resembles.

I got David Foster Wallace. Let me know your results.
  • Listening to: I'd Do It All Again- Corrine Bailey Rae
  • Reading: A Week In December- Sebastain Faulks
  • Drinking: Coke


Add a Comment:
mackwrites Featured By Owner Mar 7, 2011
Tanks :)
TheSeventhSeal004 Featured By Owner Mar 8, 2011
Anytime. :)
Tuo-Karhunen Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2010  Student Traditional Artist
Thanks for the watch and the fav! :)
TheSeventhSeal004 Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2010
To you as well
BibliolepticAttack Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2010
Thanks for the fave :)
TheSeventhSeal004 Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2010
Anytime :)
3wyl Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
Congratulations! On behalf of #ProjectComment, one of your pieces is featured here: [link]
shinychufish Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
Send this to at least 15 people you love
including me if you care for me! *Let's see how many hearts you get!*
Please continue sending your own love to those you care for.
FAKE FRIENDS: Will ignore it ♥♥ But you know I love you
moonmarvel Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2010
right on
julietcaesar Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fave on "Impermanence". :aww:
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