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About Literature / Hobbyist aliceFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 5 Years
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Literature
reddest
“Goddamnit, Mary.”
He was on his lucky. “Great. Just great,” August spat, grabbing the last cigarette and throwing the empty pack on the ground among empty red Solo cups and an empty handle of vodka. He fished around in his pocket for a lighter as he walked in the dark, muttering to himself, drunk and irritated. “This bitch takes off in the middle of the party to God knows where and I’m out of cigarettes. Fuckin’ great.”
It must have been three or four A.M. by now. It was the end of the summer and it was dark and there was this eerie fog that clung low in the sky, casting a reddish orange haze beneath the streetlights. He had watched her shadow as she ran out the door, past the porch, into the fields, beyond whatever’s out there in a wild flash of energy, as if she’d never been so happy to be outside. Hell if he know where she went. Mary didn’t hang around him and the other guys often, and even August didn’t know h
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:iconfervvent:fervvent 6 2
Literature
letter from the moon
I spent three years of my life staring into the sun.
do you know what kind of damage that does to someone?
friends would take turns convincing me
to look away
but when I did --
afterimages
of light danced on the walls.
we built a home in them;
we played pretend, made shadows
of a life with our hands, lied
for days in the sun's mark.
we knew we could not live there.
the house soon grew
dark, silent, slowly. when nothing more could be seen,
I spilt the spirit from my own
split throat.
I thanked the sun for its gift:
blindness.
:iconfervvent:fervvent
:iconfervvent:fervvent 11 6
Literature
INITIATION
at the height of the full moon,
you drive out to the woods and walk
as far as your body will let you
without making a labyrinth of the greenery,
minotaurs of the honey bees they harbor there.
they warn they draw restless in the mornings,
which begin early here. warn also
of the stinging nettleberries among
the flowers, blooming violet with the moon.
find a clearing as the sun arches to the horizon line
and wait for dusk. draw your circle
in fire, thank the earth, the moon, the air, the water,
all of it surrounding. tend to the fire in the center;
learn patience. walk circles as you line the space
with mirrors looking into each other ad infinitum.
watch five fires turn into a thousand, smoke
crawling through the trees. learn boundaries,
blank walls, invisible barriers. down to skin,
you become part of the trees, of the night,
frogs mistaken for birds, wind in the limbs lifting
up. nearby, music, but not.
learn this is how the world sounds.
learn to breathe, to sleep.
there is a handprin
:iconfervvent:fervvent
:iconfervvent:fervvent 9 4
Mature content
lemon, honey. no direct sunlight. :iconfervvent:fervvent 8 0
Mature content
Sunday Rituals :iconfervvent:fervvent 5 2
Mature content
[untitled] :iconfervvent:fervvent 5 0
nebbish by fervvent nebbish :iconfervvent:fervvent 11 3
disclaimer - please do not take everything i write seriously. some of it is fiction, some of it is the truth, some of it is personal, and they are not always the same thing.

Random Favourites

Literature
and we are bled of colour.
we are bad
emotions and twisted
words, forming lies and
vicious circles.
we are your new best friend.
-
we are the oil
in your eyes, we taste like
blood and cyanide, and this
world hasn't had
enough of us.
yet.
-
we live in
half-eaten boxes of
out-dated cereal and we're stabbing
holes in everything we
ever
loved.
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Literature
winding
"how far do you think we could walk in three hours?"
or until someone notices. three isn't important really,
but how long would it take
to get lost?
to disappear?
i could only do it with you,
the only person who keeps me sane. but
could we make it?
i think we could - give me a time and place and we can just up & leave
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Roe by BlackSeaFoam Roe :iconblackseafoam:BlackSeaFoam 81 23
Mature content
coax :iconsilklilies:silklilies 20 35
Literature
you have pretty legs
dear j, hurt me.
i feel you when i sleep, injected into dreams
you are the only girl who would ever say i'm broken
and still love me. love me more. my thoughts of you are
serpentine, dark, dreaming: women are this way
being a woman, loving a woman, this brings me to
the depths of mystery, unexplored hollows and 
untold secrets, stories we cannot recount, hinting.
loving a woman is reaching blindly for your own heart
with needle-tipped fingers, smoke escaping from
the many dialects of your tongue, animalistic,
blood spitting, nails ripping open layers of internal flesh,
opening things that shouldn't, can't,
forcing.
your words drip from me, soundless as red water,
my blood filling with the dirt of my poetry, empires
of detriment, devoted paragons, parted lips
swaying hips, slivers of exposed skin to touch.
i am your animus, your wayward house, a shattered
window, a visceral dame, a choked vociferation, 
a whispering cunt in blue tights, a flower in the forest
you got
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People of the Earth by nile-can-too People of the Earth :iconnile-can-too:nile-can-too 88 7
Literature
wanderlust
he is the kind of boy who makes me want to believe in god because
i can think of no other explanation for the effect he has on people except that
god loves him,
and maybe god doesn't love the rest of us because
he is the kind of boy who makes us forget how good loneliness can be.
most days i just want to write songs and sleep.
it would be nice if i could have him too, but
we are wanderers,
eternally and ephemerally lost in passing.
so i hope that he finds someday
someone
somewhere
who loves Them enough not to let it go
when he asks so kindly.
(whereas i will consent to cut Us.)
it would be nice if i could write to him about him for him, but
we do what wanderers do: forget. move,
closer or farther i'm not sure.
still, oscillating in time is not so bad if you can try and see things from where i stand,
wherever that
might be.
it would be nice if he maybe wrote something to me about me for me
because even though i'd die young,
a taste of immortality before that might not be so bad.
life is
:iconprecipitously:precipitously
:iconprecipitously:precipitously 7 11
Literature
announcement
all passengers
should remember
to wear sunscreen.
earplugs.
you can keep
them in and
listen to the
maladaptive
cognitions
scuttling over
your skull like
beetles
(have you heard
of the soldier
ants? they bite
and do not
let go, even
when dead)
you could also
stay awake
and listen to
the silent
camaraderie
in your carriage.
ensure all doors
are properly closed.
remain seated
unless standing
and please remember
the weeping willow.
a woman may love
for her whole life
and a man
only for a day
(or vice versa)
this is what creates
the sourness
in my ears.
a question
for you to ponder:
before your body,
were you
man or woman?
mind the gap.
:iconClioStorm:ClioStorm
:iconcliostorm:ClioStorm 13 3
Literature
Metastasis
98.00
Autumn is the season when everything dies.
The leaves shrivel up and your lungs go with them, tiny dejected organs drying out inside your sternum, crinkling under our footsteps. The doctors pronounce their diagnosis as the leaves fall, listing medical terms and percentages and something about medication options.
The disease is metastatic: it has bored its way out of your lungs and into your bones. Dissatisfied, it's going for your organs, your liver, your heart. The prognosis says Christmas is a pipe dream, likely as the sun ceasing to set.
You promise it anyway.
94.00
November comes and I am a fish, breathing through makeshift gills carved into my hips, lopsided and crude.
I make fresh ones twice a day, slice myself open once in the morning and once at night in hopes the air will come a little easier each time. I make three and count them off:
one,
two,
three,
and hope my heart stops.
92.00
The leaves have been carted away, pummeled into dust, and blown away in the wind.
Your lu
:iconAlloenDreams:AlloenDreams
:iconalloendreams:AlloenDreams 229 80
Hades by NNarcissus Hades :iconnnarcissus:NNarcissus 1,451 193 Birds.. by laura-makabresku Birds.. :iconlaura-makabresku:laura-makabresku 612 13
Literature
fishing for poetry
this is an advertising scam:
i'm just here to sell
to you all the creases and
corners from the inside my brain
because i don't want them
anymore.
sometimes i combine a few
memories and mementos and
recycle them into something
beautiful, but mostly i just
lure in hungry souls with
empty words fished out of
alphabet soup -
bait: some fucked up kid
who suddenly finds something
to live for, or
this mountain of metaphors
the size of a garbage dump
that everyone will think
is goddamn gorgeous.
i'm scribbling words
all over my textbooks
and crossing out entire pages,
trying to feel like this matters,
but all i feel like is
a fish out of water
:iconforestmeetwildfire:forestmeetwildfire
:iconforestmeetwildfire:forestmeetwildfire 25 25
The Cardinal's Renewal by nile-can-too The Cardinal's Renewal :iconnile-can-too:nile-can-too 77 4

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fervvent
alice
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
still a writer just
not here
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:iconithaswhatitisnt:
ithaswhatitisnt Featured By Owner May 21, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
happy birthday <3 :tighthug: :iconrainbowcakeplz:
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:iconaway-with-knives:
aWay-with-knives Featured By Owner Oct 12, 2015  Student General Artist
hahaha, foreskin
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(2 Replies)
:iconis-lnds:
Is-lnds Featured By Owner Jun 19, 2015
funny seeing
you here
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(1 Reply)
:iconithaswhatitisnt:
ithaswhatitisnt Featured By Owner May 21, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday!! :tighthug: :heart: :iconrainbowcakeplz:
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(1 Reply)
:icondogmatickerr:
DogmaticKerr Featured By Owner May 21, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday, miss! :wave: :sing:
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