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Labyrinth of Obsession
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10th-Apr-2009 09:29 am - HYDE fanart
...which my scanner totally killed.

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1st-Jun-2008 12:26 pm(no subject)



This journal is freinds only EXCEPT for art and writing. Basically, I'm only locking my life-related posts. If you want to friend me, comment here, I'll most likely add you. : )

10th-Jan-2008 09:07 pm - hyde portrait
 This is the first portrait I've done on my tablet... There are a few things I need to fix, but overall, it's okay.

Fake cut!

X-posted to various places
13th-Dec-2007 05:53 am - Canvas - short story

Title: Canvas
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Fandom: Original
A/N: This is the first time in too long that I've picked up my pen and written simply to write.


 

You never really liked painting on a canvas, did you? Whenever possible, you avoided it. “I'd rather my art live and breathe than die upon a canvas.” I can’t count how many times you told me this.

Perhaps that’s how I found myself sitting in your attic, back bared to you, day after day. Sometimes you finished quickly; often you did not, and for hours I’d sit, still as a doll, gazing through the sole dirty window that punctured the drab walls. We could see the whole world from up there: the little glade at the bottom of your wooded, sloped yard, and the creek tumbling haphazardly through it; the rolling field of gold and green that lay farther out, flecked with bright wildflowers; and, farther still, the pale violet bulges that formed a small mountain range, so far away that occasionally the clouds would fall and veil them completely. After the hours I’d spent gazing through that window, I’d memorized the landscape, and often could tell when even a single tree had been knocked down from a particularly harsh storm. Framed by the chipped wood of the window sill, it resembled a painting itself, so ethereal it was.

I recall you once having painted the scene, actually, for a school project. In my eyes, it had been an exact replica of the attic view; I can’t imagine how long you stood there, gazing out the window, your paintbrush flying across the canvas, capturing every shimmer of the light on the stream, every tiny wildflower in the far-off meadow.

You hated the picture. When it had been returned to you, you’d torn it to pieces, and thrown the tattered remnants out the very window you’d painted by. You never told me why, no matter how many times I asked.

None of that anger was present when you painted on me. Through the mirrors positioned carefully against the stark walls, I could see you, the paintbrush resting between your lips as you studied my back. It wasn’t that you needed to survey your canvas- you’d painted it many times- but rather, you were seeing something invisible to the rest of the world. It wouldn’t stay that way long.

A certain light came across your face, and you disappeared from my view as soon as the paintbrush struck my skin. Having played the part of the canvas so many times, I’d learned to suppress the initial shivers that threatened to ruin your work. Like a toy, I allowed you to tilt my head this way or that and clip my hair out of the way so you could paint my neck. The brush strokes came quickly, so that I could hardly tell them apart, except on the occasion where you paused to clean your brush and dip the soft hairs into a new color. Somehow, I doubt you’d have noticed if I’d shifted a little or coughed, but out of respect, I didn’t take the chance.

The first time you’d painted on me, I’d jumped and squirmed the whole time as if there were ants attacking me. Thankfully, you’d been amused rather than agitated when the butterfly wings you’d covered me with dripped and smeared. Rejecting my apology, you’d snapped a few pictures of them after I’d admired them in a cracked mirror.

“It gives it an identity,” you’d stated simply. “A little bit of you in my work.”

I can’t say I had the slightest clue what you were talking about then, but I didn’t question you.

“Alright,” your voice through my thoughts, drawing me back to reality, “I’m finished now, go take a look.”

Today, it seemed your thoughts had followed mine, through the smeared, cracked glass; and so, your brush had come to life, and on my back lay what could have been a photograph of the attic view I’d for so long admired, and a small butterfly on my neck. It couldn’t have varied greatly from the piece you’d destroyed, yet it seemed completely different. It lived and breathed as I did, a whole new creature, alive, a product of your genius and my genes.

A little bit of myself in your work.

16th-Nov-2007 04:33 pm - Persist -poetry-

Persist

Seasons come and seasons go
Like the clouds sway, to and fro
Now I stand still and watch the rain
Shining in the window pane

But someday soon the wind will blow
And water still will once more flow
And dreams will be a distant land
Memories naught but a guiding hand

16th-Nov-2007 04:24 pm - Impassion -poetry-

Impassion

Jump up high and touch the sky
Fall to Earth if you can't fly
But promise me you'll always try
Until you can take flight

Find a wooded path and walk
Listen to the crickets talk
Watch the suns downward stalk
Until you taste the night

Believe me as we tread the sand
If you falter, hold my hand
We'll fly 'til there's nowhere to land
And nothing left but light

16th-Nov-2007 04:20 pm - Dirge -poetry-

Dirge

The angel bells ring
Clear through the murky air
Calling forth shimmering wings
Unbeknown to blackened onlookers

The heavens are beckoning
And you must answer, so
Release yourself from this dank world
Shining glory and warmth await you
Through stained wood and white marble, soar
Your imprisonment is over

The goodbyes soar like doves
To guide you through the gray
To the shining new world
Where you can always hear
The angel bells

16th-Nov-2007 04:17 pm - WAR -poetry-

WAR

Someday
Somewhere
People die:
War and hate
Starvation and 
Plague. But we
Who know and
Have so much
Do so very little.
We let them die
We don't care
Just because
It is not us

But someday
somewhere
It might
be 

4th-Nov-2007 08:32 pm - GARASU dama

Kono mama.... boku wa kiete... shimaisou....

It's a wallpaper. didn't end up at all like I pictured it. Wasn't originally underwater. >.>;

Bubble brush by this person.



EDIT:  Dx I just sat at y bus stop for like, a half an hour, tihnking "Wtf, hy isn't anyone here?" so I went home and chacked my calendarand today is a school holiday. *shot*

So, since I have time, you get the sketch of above wallpaper... sinceI like it possibly more tan the finishe product. >.>
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