| -A guide to my gallery for the inept:- When you click on my gallery, it takes you immediately to the "featured" section, which contains only the pieces that I don't hate. If you want to see everything, you can click on "browse" up at the top left once you're in there, or look through all the folders on the right-- I've categorized every deviation into one of those. |
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An Openingby *Konjekto
Hotel RoomThere are no lines in this balcony scene, just the long drag of engines, like dirty glass bottles in some alleyway. You've asked meHotel Room
should I feel like a prostitute sometimes, not owned by some man but those curtain veins payed by the hour, torn and collapsed.
Your breathing is narrow, and a wide bloom of empty space is outside you, spinning and obscene
because life's not getting any better than that.
by *Konjekto
Lizard Teethby *Konjekto
Literature
Hotel RoomThere are no lines in this balcony scene, just the long drag of engines, like dirty glass bottles in some alleyway. You've asked meHotel Room
should I feel like a prostitute sometimes, not owned by some man but those curtain veins payed by the hour, torn and collapsed.
Your breathing is narrow, and a wide bloom of empty space is outside you, spinning and obscene
because life's not getting any better than that.
by *Konjekto
InhaleI heaved my lungs to you, like hot tar gum spirit, so plural and effuse,Inhale
and I kept myself warm and quiet, and still to the arrival
and to the departure of breath.
by *Konjekto
To Central StreetHe had always known the abstract, the moral, was none but a profane commodity. The powers of possession violated through his fingertips, winding flickers down a trigger, hollowed out and the drippings clicking like a dizzy liquid-- and the way he curled the glass to its overflow, it pulled him like a violin string half-tuned and cocked in its cradle, a dilated smile locked into release and paling, so softly like a tired amphetamine.To Central Street
And static is a nectar, eyes waxed and melted to a pool of contentment, in the crackling sacrelige
by *Konjekto
Vein ApoplecticThere are sparklers in the back of my throat, and you're just itching to dynamite this joint. (A rift of twitches, from an orange twit.) I'm a fighting last chance, a choke-battered tongue serum tangerine sweat retained behind a layer of plastic wrap and I crinkle whenever you slide into my shiver of a short-leashed field mouseVein Apoplectic
with dandelion claws stuck in its spinning wheel of a
spine. (And by dandelion, I mean poppy.) I always love it when I can slurp up the spasms, and you're the perfect paint thinner to finish the job.
So load your heat into the barrel of my
by *Konjekto
Random Favourites
deviantID
| Don't gag on your eyebrows. |
Deleting.
QuestionableDevious Info
- Current Residence: Under your floorboards, with Marcel.
- Interests: You.
- Favourite movie: Your life.
- Favourite genre of music: Your voice.
- Favourite poet or writer: Your thoughts.
- Favourite style of art: Your body.
- Wallpaper of choice: Human skin.
- Skin of choice: Yours.
- Email: eatingfoil@hotmail.com
- AIM: Konjekto
Babies?
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20%
17%
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Fave News
- 34 Photography Feature - Apr 19, 2009
- 72 70 Under 70 Favorites - Apr 16, 2009
- 47 V News Feature: Monochrome Photography - Mar 30, 2009
- 25 Weekly-Deviant: Issue 09 - Dec 6, 2008
- 20 Weekly Feature #9 - Music - Nov 29, 2008
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