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Literature
Scorched soul
Her eyes, like dying stars
supernova pulse immolating my soul
illuminating my heresy
and rendering inert my treason.
For in the brilliance
the guilt falls away.
But to gaze into the conflagration
is to see the face of god
That which men cannot see
And return from unchanged.
Stare into its bewitching beauty
Know heat on skin
Fire blast the soul
Till naught but I remain.
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 0 3
Literature
Now my words are
Once, I found that my words flowed
But these days, they are hard to find.
Once wealthy springs of verbal voicings
are now vapid voids, no intellect.
But when you are in my mind
When I call your face to light
Words come unbidden, striking as stars
Zephyrs whisper them in,
Lunar luminosity of angelic countenance
I struggle to ejaculate a sentence,
Save for your grace, wherein lies ease
Bursting forth, spring gale,
Torrential deluge of keen insight
For rose petal lips, pursed
and tarnished copper pools.
Shrewd voracity, strikes electric
Hail storming beats images metallic
Shining indentations, displays
elucidates the features
In words, I find you,
And in you, I find words.
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 1 3
Literature
Story preview
"Another day, another flight, another damn, bloody firstmateless voyage," Thomas muttered to himself, hoisting the sails of his airship. Reaching over, he gripped the loop of rope that held his ship moored to the flight dock.
"Yer off then, mis'ser?" the toothless dockwatch asked him, frowning silghtly. His name was Dodds and he was a kindly fellow, athough a bit slow. He always made sure to see Thomas off, for whatever reason, and Thomas had taken a shine to him.
"Yes indeed, I am," Thomas called, tossing a silvered coin to Dodds. Dodds caught it and smiled, waving as Thomas slipped the mooring rope off of the peg and sidled his ship out into the morning air. It was a cool day, trending towards the end of fall and slipping into winter. There was no more wind than a gentle breeze and the sun was warm enough on the skin, all its summer fury leeched out by the passage of fall.
The run that day was a simple one, just a cargo delivery, some goods for a merchant on another of the isles. The
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 0 0
JolteonxCharmander by wabitgirl
Mature content
JolteonxCharmander :iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 1 10
Literature
Cold
The world is a cold place.
We stand in an eternal winter, the gusts blowing out from our person to chill the heat that w e might feel from life.
There is no final hiding place from this tempestuous onslaught.
All our mistakes are laid plain to us, whether we wish to see them or not.
You cannot hide from yourself.
Feel the chill wind as it chinks through the cracks.
It whistles into your mind and gusts into your psyche.
And it freezes your confidence, solid.
Till someone comes along and taps that confidence with their little hammer of doubt.
Then you shatter, fracturing, a schism, irreparable.
You scream as you break, crumbling like so much ice.
Then is the mad scramble, as you scrape pieces
Hastily shove them together, mounding them up and making...something.
A fort, a little hillock behind which you might hide.
But the wind is still there.
You cannot hide from yourself.
And ultimately, you too will freeze.
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 1 2
One Blaze by wabitgirl One Blaze :iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 0 0 Mastermind by wabitgirl Mastermind :iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 3 21
Literature
The last piece
Taking a moment, I collected myself. My finger twitched errantly on the string, threatening to sound it before I was well and truly ready. Breathing deeply, I controlled my body and plastered on a smile.  I was going for warm and genuine, but I imagine it came across as a bit sick. I was nervous as hell and no amount of practice could keep that out of my image completely.
Sighing again, I dropped the thoughts and half closed my eyes. Breathing in and then out, I strummed my fingers across the strings, letting forth a melody of my own devising. I had taken great pains with the opening, knowing that it was the most crucial element of the piece. A good opening will enrapture an audience and once they are in the net, they will stay there until you release them, no matter what you played afterwards. Even if the rest of the piece was subpar, they would remember it as the most magnificent think that they had heard, all because of a good opening.
However, my piece was no mere mediocr
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 0 4
Literature
Danny
I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. They were stark. There was a bed in the corner, on which I was lying. From this corner, I could observe the rest of the room without much effort. There was a small toilet, hardly more than six inches off of the floor, a sink with a metal mirror above it, a fluorescent bulb, high above my head and a door. That was it.
With a sigh, I swung my legs off of the bed and slapped my feet onto the cold floor. The lights had snapped on a couple minutes ago, jarring me out of the unpleasant dream I always had. When they had first locked me up, I had hardly slept, huddled in the cold corner of my cot, trying my best to ward off the chill that pervaded the whole facility. Now, I had adapted. The cold no longer mattered to me, nor did the harsh light. When I awoke, I was wholly awake. There was no longer a lengthy transition between waking and sleeping. It was as though I were a machine, off or on. It made it easier to answer their questions when they wo
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 1 5
Literature
Freedom
He sat alone in the darkness, the familiar darkness, without sight, without sound. It had been an interminable time since he had seen the light. He could hardly remember it. The brightness that pervaded all and the brilliance that would illuminate everything. He closed his eyes, although it made no difference. The darkness was safe. The light was the pain. When they opened the doors, there was light, and that was what he feared more than anything. So he stayed in the darkness, cowering from the light.
He no longer remembered his own name. They had stripped that from him, however many years ago, it felt. He did not know who he was, where he was or why. His only memories now were those that had been placed in him by his captors. They savagely beat them into his body and into his mind, using all mediums to convey their twisted image. He did not understand what they were trying to do and they never told him. There was only the pain, nothing else, unless it was the brief respite of darkness
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 0 0
Literature
To you
A thousand words of prose is what you request of me. A task to simple, but dedicated. To you, then, I offer these words.
There is a flame in each of us, standing. As it flickers, we bend and twist in life, blown by the winds of fate and the forces of change. However, there is one who will shield us, protect our flame and allow it to grow into the inferno that subjugates all opposition. Will you let me shield you?
There are those would call you broken, but you are whole. Locked, but whole. Once you said you needed a thief, not a knight. That the chains around your heart were too strong and the locks unbreakable. But you, without knowing, had opened a door, and allowed the rogue his prize. You stepped out of your boundaries, for just a moment, and had the world ripped away from you, and opened, in a away you did not know possible. You tumbled, fell and went careening into a brilliant light, an insane slope of infatuation and madness that you could not have anticipated, but you embraced i
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 0 2
Literature
Broke me
You broke me in a way I cannot describe.
How, so cold; uncaring.
My own father.
Blunt and harsh, but subtle.
The pain has not left me.
It may never go, as some pain does.
You hurt me
It was all you knew how to do
There are no scars
There is nothing left of it,
But a vestigial reaction
A flash of temper
And a hint of anger
The pain you brought
I endured
The duress under which I was placed
corroded me, wore me to nothing
I snapped, time and again
But nothing was wrong
Just teaching me a lesson.
It took the years
And space, and help of a friend
To see what you did
I understand it now.
I'm sorry.
Not for you, but for me.
And for my brother and sister.
And my mom.
Your captive audience.
I still love you, dad.
Even though you hurt me
Broke me
And you may never realize it.
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 1 0
Literature
Fatigue
I am tired
Exhausted
Moribund, perchance
The ecstatic self
Assailed by a miasma
Now perfunctory acts
And deranged intellect
Ensconced
By lackadaisical motivation
My quandary
Illogical and moot
Nonplussed momentarily
Befuddled and bereft
Of coherency
I abscond
Goodbye
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 0 0
Literature
Spite
There's so much spite
So much anger in there
The words, biting
Corrosive, but full of fractured
The emotion, pain, suffering
For whom and why?
You speak to cover
Never to explain.
But the words are the story
And it weaves itself
In spite of the spite
The truth is slow
But the truth is real
No spite is without truth
It will grow, slowly
And I will caress a blossom
In time.
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 0 0
Literature
Lost
We are lost
Lost in life
We run ourselves in circles
But I am not lost
The circles are ended
There is no need to run
Can you see it?
Who can?
How do you show someone the way?
First, you must teach them to forget.
We cling to knowledge
That is how humans live
But to learn to see, you must learn to forget
Until you forget, you cannot clear you mind
If the mind is full, you cannot learn
And when we cannot learn, we are lost.
And when you are lost, you run in circles.
The cycle repeats.
We believe ourselves to be immune.
We believe ourselves to be intelligent.
We believe ourselves to have some kind of power.
There is no truth in that.
We know nothing.
We are infinitely vulnerable.
We are infinitely powerless.
We see ourselves as bastions of power
We see ourselves as bastions of truth
We are bastions of weakness
We are bastions of lies.
There is no escape from these truths.
Until we see that we are lost.
You will never see that you are lost.
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 0 0
Literature
Playing Games
Oh,what's a boy to do
And how is he to act
When the girl is just so right
She's cute and smart, to be sure
that's a given fact.
Oh, what's a boy to do?
She has just the right allure
and there's no need to redact,
when the girl is just so right.
He can't quite get his thoughts pure
and properly react.
Oh, what's a boy to do?
It's almost painful to endure
such perfect, flirty tact,
When the girl is just so right.
He hopes she won't be too demure
when she reads this little tract.
Oh, what's a boy to do,
When the girl is just so right?
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl
:iconwabitgirl:wabitgirl 0 6

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Activity


Her eyes, like dying stars
supernova pulse immolating my soul
illuminating my heresy
and rendering inert my treason.

For in the brilliance
the guilt falls away.
But to gaze into the conflagration
is to see the face of god

That which men cannot see
And return from unchanged.

Stare into its bewitching beauty
Know heat on skin
Fire blast the soul
Till naught but I remain.

deviantID

wabitgirl's Profile Picture
wabitgirl
is a guy...don't ask
United States
I'm another miserable soul on this godforsaken rock in the middle of an intergalactic dead zone, playing out my life into the merciless hands of fate. All in all, life is looking pretty good.
Interests
Well, it's been...four years now?

Weird. 

Anyway, I've been gone a long time, more or less. I come by now and again, just to look at things and occasionally exchange a word or two with an old friend, but for the most part, I'm not here anymore.

I don't really write anymore, nor do I make poetry or take pictures. The fire for art that I used to have to share, the vanity that I felt about my old pieces and the pride I had in my work, that's all gone, completely. I don't really expect to get that back, but I am trying to, eventually, figure out a way to get back into the process of making art again. If anything good pops up, I may post it here, but I'll probably forget. Anyway, I'm not really sure if anyone reads these, much less on an account that has been dead for four years, but I hope that any of you reading this are well.

Perhaps I'll see you all again.

Perhaps not.

All the best,

wabitgirl
  • Listening to: The computer's fan
  • Reading: Less than I should
  • Watching: the clock
  • Playing: LOL, TF2, Skyrim, Dark Souls (FUCK THAT GAME!)
  • Eating: not enough today!
  • Drinking: Nothing here, either.

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:iconreddofnonnac:
ReddofNonnac Featured By Owner Jul 29, 2016
Thanks for watching!
Reply
:iconwabitgirl:
wabitgirl Featured By Owner Oct 13, 2016
Absolutely. Thank you for making awesome art!
Reply
:iconhelmsburg75:
Helmsburg75 Featured By Owner Jan 13, 2016
Thanks 4 the watch!
Reply
:iconaldebaran086:
aldebaran086 Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for the fav! :)
Reply
:iconwabitgirl:
wabitgirl Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2014
Sure thing. I followed as well.
Reply
:iconaldebaran086:
aldebaran086 Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for watch too! :)
Reply
:iconaldebaran086:
aldebaran086 Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I mean thanks for the watch! :D
Reply
:iconnth47:
nth47 Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2014
Thanks for watching!
Reply
:iconwabitgirl:
wabitgirl Featured By Owner Oct 22, 2014
Sure thing!
Reply
:iconlurker1001:
Lurker1001 Featured By Owner Apr 24, 2014
Thanks for the fave.
Reply
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