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481 deviations
Literature
Parasite
It burrows into your brain.
It wants to live there.
You don't even know it exists.
It eats your serotonin,
but you don't even notice its gone
because everything feels so heavy.
You wonder why the world seems so grey,
not realising that your retinas are scarred
by the thing living in your brain.
You can't understand why the world seems so thick
like syrup
but it isn't sweet enough to make you smile.
It squats, getting fat on your stolen happiness,
while you wonder what you'd look like
with a noose around your neck.
You wonder if screaming would make you
feel something
but its taken even that.
The world is monochrome
but you see more blac
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You May Say I'm An Artist...
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By techgnotic (https://www.deviantart.com/techgnotic)
I am haunted in this holiday season by the opening lines of Charles Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities, his novel about a society 250 years ago coming apart in its seemingly irreconcilable divisions. Could it be these lines define where we have come to find ourselves today?
“It was the best of times,
it was the worst of times,
in the age of wisdom,
it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief,
it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light,
it was the season of Darkness,
it was the spring of hope,
it was the winter of despair…”
ur own epoch is one of the tec
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Literature
Happy Birthday
When I breathe into the empty blue morning, my breath fogs up in the too-cold-for-this-time-of-year air and I wish I could pull it back into me. I'm not quite awake and not quite asleep, but I'm conscious of the day and the time and the rain that prickles my face through the open screen window. I wish you a quiet happy birthday under my breath because I might have lost the right to make you happy, but I'll still wish it forever.
Your name on my lips hurts and it's a struggle to move the air past my vocal cords in a way that will actually produce sound instead of a whisper. I keep you so close to my heart that every time it beats it touches y
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