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Krion Rhademanthus
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In The Pit

I

In The Pit

On the scanners the pinging dot of the forward probe was getting nearer to the beacon's source. The Judge tapped his wrist impatiently, stared back at the block-wide hole before him for a few minutes before switching over to the HQ feed. Gotta be some punk on whose spine he could better use his time. The ancient megaplex groaningly released its jealously guarded secret to the clanks and whirs of the Excadroids, their arachnoid hydraulics effortlessly hurling bus-sized chunks of pre-collapse concrete and rebar into the curiously empty streets behind. The scanner made a loud whooping noise, indicating paydirt. With a scowl, Dredd dropped down i

Form poem 1

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Form poem 1

White the marbled torso, limbless, headless, flawless. The outer son, frantic and incandescent. 'Time is the fire in which we burn', to wit: 'Not even your bones the end of time will see, since time chose of nothing it to make.' I grieve for human warmth and the life of the living. Uppsala... Thing of all Swedes... In the nameless chamber, I return to the marble. Not even an echo will survive.

Ecclesiastes 1:8-10

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Ecclesiastes 1:8-10

Ecclesiastes 1:8-10 (There are No Rules) The tiles windowgossip air-filled sunrays through their precious grime, 'cause you ought to, through, see, see how he's watching you, and he bled for you and me and aren't you a naughty boy? (Not yet.) Suntime, silly wet, waiting with a half-smile, yes we know it's hot out and genesis is (never) red, but she's sitting right across from me and I hate acrostic mysteries, (never) mention rosaries, we're only in this building 'cause I think that it's a Saturday and Sunday wasn't Holy Day, remember back to Living Day? His floating under-capit' 'T' lacks some of the severity I've come to learn since I was

Toil in Obscurity Forever

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Toil in Obscurity Forever

Strobing Flashes Penetrate Tracing the shape and stroking the  depth of your emptiness Sprayed ink lives die on blank leaves Bleached teeth on a microphone amplifiers speakers television screens blasting, prolix, silent All eyes on you We are not yet entertained Seeing exactly what's expected A sustained release of southwest winds Sterile by the Sun under which nothing new will grow Nudge, finger, probe, inspect churned up soil, seeds to infect Lonely wither and fail And the dream is compromised according to taste (bitter) What takes its place? Fear of scorn? The top, hard fought, taken? A mirror in a bridal gown? Shro

2nd Law of Psychodynamics

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2nd Law of Psychodynamics

I am Whole, Able, Content, Ever redefining my utility away, again the needless has no end and no peace Better then to half be As the bird half is; A wrought and worried patch of life Stretched over a hunger spinning, endless desperation The struggle makes the prize worth keeping. Waterlogged, I slough my skin In bland slabs of discard To feed a greater wasteful satisfaction There will be no oxygen to sustain the flame Appreciate the gleam A dim bulb gloams for decades No will, no way to use the power beyond the walls (of sleep) ,a burnout without flair envies the twittering match tumbling from a balcony into a (
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In The Pit

I

In The Pit

On the scanners the pinging dot of the forward probe was getting nearer to the beacon's source. The Judge tapped his wrist impatiently, stared back at the block-wide hole before him for a few minutes before switching over to the HQ feed. Gotta be some punk on whose spine he could better use his time. The ancient megaplex groaningly released its jealously guarded secret to the clanks and whirs of the Excadroids, their arachnoid hydraulics effortlessly hurling bus-sized chunks of pre-collapse concrete and rebar into the curiously empty streets behind. The scanner made a loud whooping noise, indicating paydirt. With a scowl, Dredd dropped down i

PeRfeCtion

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PeRfeCtion

                                                     PerfeCtion        By Jared Solmssen Grigor Samser opened his eyes, first seeing (as he always did) a gaping chasm falling away to infinity, spidering across the crumbling stucco ceiling of his downtown Detroit apartment. Oh, how he hated that crack; it was as if while fashioning the very stonework of reality God had struck carelessly with his chisel and caused the very fountain of existential blemishes to well up from that spot. He resented his current surroundings, but nothing made him grind his teeth more than that tiny crabbed gap. Grigor Samser hated imperfections, and he thought he

Euthanize me, Capn

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Euthanize me, Capn

Jared Solmssen  -Euthanize Me, Cap'n!- 11/18/2004 In West Stockbridge's Catholic Memorial Hospital, Mr. Torrance is in critical condition. He has contracted Humanoid Spongiform Encephalopathy (HSE) from a tick bite while out hunting with his son. As he lies there in the crisis ward, mysterious HSE proteins known as prions are working savagely at his brain, turning them into a mushy prion soup in much the same manner as Ebola hemorrhagic fever chews the flesh into Ebola proteins. His brain is becoming more and more useless, and somewhere in between gibbering lethargic blasphemies and lashing out at random nurses he asks his family to kill him

Spotlight

Central Vituperation Matrix

4Comments
  • Germany
  • Deviant for 16 years
  • He / Him
Badges
Llama: Llamas are awesome! (2)
My Bio
Current Residence: Canterbury
Favourite genre of music: Black Metal, Death Metal, Avant-Garde, Noise, Drone, Trip-Hop, Post-rock, Drum/Bass
Operating System: Hatred
MP3 player of choice: Winamp.
Shell of choice: Blackbox Atonement
Wallpaper of choice: Atonement (see deviations)
Skin of choice: BlackJapan
Favourite cartoon character: Hexxus
Personal Quote: 'Like I said...' 'Speaking of which...'

Favourite Visual Artist
Zdzislaw Beksinski, Francois Launet, Goya, Giger, Dali, Zi
Favourite Movies
Natural Born Killers, Cthulhu, Children of Men, The Big Lebowski, The Mothman Prophecies, Fate
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
The Darkest of the Hillside Thickets, Deathspell Omega, Emperor, Agalloch, NIN
Favourite Writers
Charles Baudelaire, Howard Phillips Lovecraft, Umberto Eco, Neil Gaiman
Favourite Games
Black and White, Fable
Favourite Gaming Platform
My Hate Machine
Tools of the Trade
I need no tools, only hatred and endorphins.
Other Interests
Art,

Ending

Ending

The cycle previously mentioned is no more. The dreams have ended, and I have begun to live. There will be no updates for a VERY long time.

Direction

Direction

I'm addicted to the pathetic fallacy. I think that certain emotions are not only expressible in terms of landscapes, but that there is a direct link between the mental and the environ-mental. A macrocosm/microcosm dynamic if you will. The more logical of you will say 'Duh! The environment shapes the way you think and feel, and determines who you are'. Not so. I think you're missing my point. Let me speak, I praythee, let me speak. Somewhere deep down in my irrational, INFP, desperately-metaphysical psyche I think that the influence can work the other way round; that the mind directly effects the development of the surrounding landscape. I

Seasonal update

Seasonal update

I'm feeeeeeeling... awesome. That last Journal? Yeah, the day sucked. But my Apps are done, and I'm cresting on a wave of happiness I've never felt before. It goes back to something that happened in '05 that has recently borne fruit again after a long, dark winter, but I can't talk too much about that. Maybe I'll keep posting, you know? Not that anybody pays attention.

Comments 53

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Wow I haven't been on this site FOREVER.
blind-dancerHobbyist Digital Artist
Strange, you're in my Nearby Deviants... Not that I don't live in a big city (it's quite huge in fact) but erm, there isn't much humans around... ;)
so i herd u liek mudkips...
:iconohnoesplz:
Hey! Whats new with u?
Guess what...i finally left BA!
hi! i didnt know u were a member here! i didnt even know u were into art...