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Featured Deviations

Digital Art
^{~featured by ProjectComment}
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Photography
^{~featured by ProjectComment}
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Traditional Art
^{~featured by leannecoleman, TheDeviantIndigo and AGBBibag}


Artisan Crafts
^{~featured by xblackxbloodxcellx, technochroma and ProjectComment}


Design & Interfaces
^{~featured by CyberChristFF}
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Literature – Prose
^{~featured by eldestmuse,  pullingcandy and ProjectComment}
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Literature – Poetry
^{~featured by Kaz-D, seventysevenpercent and ProjectComment}
Lost LoveMy feet betray me
Bring me back
To you and her
To you and me
And I can see
In the end I won
But now a brand new game's begun
And at the close
I lost this one
As the life I knew slips away
As the lovers walk to the end of the day
I think of dreams
That never were
And wish that I
Could just once be her
Wish that we
Could have shared one fate
But now I know
I'm months too late
So as I watch you walk away
The life I want just slips away ResumeBreathing: falling unsure to a beat of oddly
shuffled figures.   leaning into an awkward
                     rhythm of glances
  snippets taken from backward conversations
                             half eaten words.
   Conflicts line a materpiece painted inside out
                 seething brimful with figurative parasites,
               slowly breaking away a concentrated mind.
                Thunk
     
    

Manga/Anime
^{~featured by xbrittx102}


Fanart
^{~featured by FTWremy and ChaoticSkye}


Fan Fiction
^{~featured by Iluvocnj2006}
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Anthro
^{~featured by MachinesBleedToo}

Featured Deviant

Shores.drunk on lakewater,
parallel shores promise things
you'll have to swim for. Smoke, clouds of.deep dermis scar tissue keeps me from unfolding my limbs
to reach, to reach for
the sort of things that keep me high
when you keep yourself out of range;
things that stay green and grey against a muddy river
like exhales that sit silently in trees,
kept muffled in the looming of a canopy that continues to rain
for hours after the storm Smoke, clouds of.deep dermis scar tissue keeps me from unfolding my limbs
to reach, to reach for
the sort of things that keep me high
when you keep yourself out of range;
things that stay green and grey against a muddy river
like exhales that sit silently in trees,
kept muffled in the looming of a canopy that continues to rain
for hours after the storm Lift off.spreading arms like sails
against a dove coloured sky,
i wait for the wind To write is to..i start lightly
tasting words
at the back of my mouth
chasing consonants and vowels to the tip
of my tongue
where my fingertips
touch and transfer
to paint them with slick ink along my thighs
but this is where i lose sight of
the blank pages i intended to fill
focusing instead
on spaces i know i can't
forgetting articulation and literature
for the stroke of your fingers
when i close my eyes
but to write is to touch where you can't
and i need and i want but
(with these things)
i never get anywhere

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pullingcandy posting on behalf of ProjectComment