ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
This needs some interpretation.
I seem to be awake.
I sit bedside, moved by the skies although I do not see them.
Crawl back under sheets and try again.
These shadows are fierce.
Poised with conviction.
Sound as the air I breathe in.
Sensation teases my skin.
How long have I been keeping vision?
Still needs some interpretation.
Hoping for fiction...
In a sense, I've been more alive than those asleep.
An attempt is foreseen to fail again.
These shadows are strong.
Set with a mission.
Working to make me not of sound mind.
Sensation haunts my skin.
How long before I dream for visions?
Weeks.
Or is it really?
I've lost count, is what I understand.
Seems I've talked with phantoms.
This phase lived by a fool.
I'm skipping the time.
My life lived by others.
My mind is degenerating.
To find a key, to solve the puzzle.
It's simple, so it seems.
The room is shrinking.
My head is separating.
Seeing oblivion at this point.
It doesn't bother me.
This dream of reality is real life.
I've forgotten where this ends.
And sleep begins.
I seem to be awake.
I sit bedside, moved by the skies although I do not see them.
Crawl back under sheets and try again.
These shadows are fierce.
Poised with conviction.
Sound as the air I breathe in.
Sensation teases my skin.
How long have I been keeping vision?
Still needs some interpretation.
Hoping for fiction...
In a sense, I've been more alive than those asleep.
An attempt is foreseen to fail again.
These shadows are strong.
Set with a mission.
Working to make me not of sound mind.
Sensation haunts my skin.
How long before I dream for visions?
Weeks.
Or is it really?
I've lost count, is what I understand.
Seems I've talked with phantoms.
This phase lived by a fool.
I'm skipping the time.
My life lived by others.
My mind is degenerating.
To find a key, to solve the puzzle.
It's simple, so it seems.
The room is shrinking.
My head is separating.
Seeing oblivion at this point.
It doesn't bother me.
This dream of reality is real life.
I've forgotten where this ends.
And sleep begins.
Literature
Burning...
She was hope for the tormented souls and for those who - treading the path of darkness - committed horrors of the night
She was like a storm, like a mighty wave, inspiring humanity from the swamp of stagnation
She was beauty and ugliness, last resort, and the curse of millions.
When she paced, the fire was behind her, devouring the souls of little ones
When her rippling laughter rose above the heads of the chosen, was heard as the announcement of the war and the joy, beauty and destruction
When you condemn her, you yield, when you loved her, died ...
but at the same time ... you all wanted it, or condemn, or love
She was a river, carry
Literature
Run
Leaves and twigs crunched under loud and heavy footfalls. Long, brown hair trailed behind like the train of a wedding gown, though this was in no way a happy occasion. The girl's lungs cried for air as she pushed herself forwardrunning not only her life, but the life of many. Cold rain fell in large beads, blocking her sight and causing her to slip on the muddy forest floor.
Something was gripped in her hand and her pursuers would stop at nothing to retrieve it. The thing was a foot long cylinder the color of the sun. It felt warm despite the freezing rain and glowed like the sun too.
Shadows danced around the
Literature
The Owl
The world was a cruel place, and humans were even crueler. No matter who you are, you all strive and struggle to come off as an illusion, or as the good guy. There are the good, the bad and the ugly, majority of it is ugly. Hidden under kindness, hidden over every other emotion. And any other human being, is no exception, to monsters who may stand to reason over the world. The monsters inside, the monsters we are constantly fighting, what's the point?
I held on tight to my school books as I walked through the gate, making sure not to loose them in the wind. Bucknear academy, was a boarding school, in the middle of the forest. Sur
Suggested Collections
I don't remember writing this.
Comments1
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Your poem sounds like thoughts one would have just before going to sleep. Very nice..