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About Deviant Artist Senior Member NathanMale/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
Beast of Burden
There, the wind she feels is driven by
creatures bounding across a universe, tapping gently her neck.
She sings an aching chorus composed in fear
she sings, she sings endless verse to each.
O' come here hare or horse, o' come here bird and bear
nest and trample upon my golden hair.
Bloody my brow; bruise deep my skin
poke my eyes with berry bush stem.
Here, crown my flesh caked tangles with hoof and feather.
Now, with your ears focused on solemn melody; can your eyes see only darkness?
Mock her with growls and squawks.
Use your claws and talons to end her lyric
and compose a natural song in her honor, for she like you is long since dead.
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:iconcloude:cloude 1 4
Literature
Karma, Pink to Red
I. One Wrong Move
Fix my bed with bloodied hands
Cloud my ears with pinkened pillows
I lie still in muffled silence
As the dark room hums around me
  
II. Intentions to Improve
Hidden from my gaze behind my back
Turned glass eyes glow neon black------inside
A thick-skinned pseudo-demon mask
Arms tense always ready to act
III. Cut Smooth
Not a sound escapes but
Each tremble contains a witness to fear
As my throat rips open; my eyes tear------shut
Warm wet flows from cheek to chest
Almost gone, these last few breaths
Turn pink pillows red
And the dark room hums even after I'm dead
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:iconcloude:cloude 2 3
Literature
City Streets
they'll never change your life
wet concrete fog thick smiles
footsteps falling toward north star miles
cold toe tips water dripped feet
mark inches on city streets
passer-by buildings blood red bricks
head spins mind turns tricks
skies move in on chins turned down
walking city streets that'll never change your life  
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:iconcloude:cloude 6 8
Literature
Angel Pain Redux and Completux
I keep my love close
Not strong enough to let the pieces go
It pains the angels around me so --I keep my love close ...
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:iconcloude:cloude 0 5
Literature
Depersonalization
defined: A state in which the normal sense of personal identity and reality is lost, characterized by feelings that one's actions and speech cannot be controlled.
Mans' Struggle To Fit In By Any Means Necessary
The weirdness hit me again at the store today. I felt like I was nothing more than an object in motion in an elaborate machine with the purpose of entertaining some cosmic audience. It lasted for the entire spree and so I went with it and raised the bar of the production. I danced with my shopping cart and tossed super real, super red tomatoes around like confetti splashing on the floor painting the dirty tiles all shades of red and orange. I squeezed bananas out of their peels and smeared them on my face for the tribal war paint I needed to continue the next act of the show. I ripped my clothes and took on a more primal posture as I began to holler in a foreign tongue only I could understand. The bread aisle was littered with crumbs Hansel and Gretel would have needed to feed a
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Literature
Blind Proxy
red wet cheeks protest imminent death
clam hands stroke crowds of suspicious eyes smiling
blood swirls in dizzy dances from weak fingers to butterfly brains
can't see, the city is growling-beckoning with sounds of blind diamond light
piercing through the darkness of slammed eyelids
asphalt tears mark carefully chosen steps
finally the street, then the house
at last the creak of a known door
my bed, I could sleep for ten thousand years
forget my hands and Monarch colored mind
to spite the city and... everyone in it  
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:iconcloude:cloude 0 4
Mature content
Fun in Funeral :iconcloude:cloude 2 13
Mature content
Rape Kit :iconcloude:cloude 8 15
Mature content
Kingdom Claim :iconcloude:cloude 4 11
Literature
Juliet on Ice
The red-hot fingers plead, gripping my ankles as I skip my way to her house. There were so many burning hands trying to trip me in anger or hold me back entirely from making it to the little spot I like to toss pebbles.
She opened her window again with frigid fingers I'd been dreaming about for weeks. I could smell the chill as it dripped down the side of her neon green house. Her voice, like a dog whistle only I could hear, forced through sleep was still against my intentions.
Why wouldn't she inhale the cheap perfume from my rose tipped tongue and fall to the sea of blistering fingers as I set myself free inside of her? Did she know that my freedom rotted the tip of my tongue and left behind only a thorny stem? Did she know that I'd rasp her skin to the bone while I listened to her insignificant tales of daily curiosities? Which stifling member of the hot sea warned her of my prowess and poison tipped arrow?  
She closed her window and my rose grew another row of petals. So
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Literature
Rebirth
Something salty splashed across Estelle's lips as she was dancing on the small floor at the center of her local sports bar. She thought it was sweat from her rather hot and handsome dance partner, so she used the back of her hand to mix his perspiration with her spit. As she brought her hand back down to his firm shoulder she noticed a checkered gradient running from her wrist to the tip of her index finger. Soon splash after splash of this would be sweat was hitting her face and bare arms from all directions. Estelle looked around to see if any of the other couples dancing had taken notice of the dark brackish rain. To her surprise they were all dancing, as they had been the entire night. She looked to her partner for confirmation and saw nothing but vacant lifeless eyes. She studied his face for any break in his sudden stoic visage, but as if he were replaced without her noticing. He never broke character with a smile or opened his mouth to acknowledge her. Estelle coated and drippin
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:iconcloude:cloude 4 13
Literature
Love Song
My hands taut on a lopsided wooden frame pulsate and rise under the pressure of his soft fingertips as they trace fresh fragments of pain jutting out from just beneath my surface. Our eyes meet; slowly overlap in the space between our thoughts, and recoil when a discordant song begins to play. The rapid clashing waltz slowly stops time around us. Crows frozen mid-flight hover just to the left of a small pile of garbage that perfumes our upper lips with the rancid odor of the persecuted and forgotten, a smell we know, a smell we accept, after all we will add our own stink to the pungent bouquet. We pretend to smile as we're forced to dance awkwardly to the unpleasant notes that ring out across the open field. The first verse of harsh noise leaves us on our sides as tattered ribbons of flesh on upright timber posts buried in blood soaked sand. We trade whispers of air between our paling lips and courage with our twinned eyes. I imagine my hand under a hole in his chest and collect the la
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:iconcloude:cloude 1 11
Literature
Witness Protection-Serialized
In a small town off Interstate 45 a small uprising was growing faster than the local police could track. Soon the federal government would send forces to intervene. They'd wrap the situation up before word spread that graves were empty that night that had been full for years and the freshly dead were stumbling out of the small morgue dragging their toe tags across warm asphalt to fight through a blockade set up on the only road out of town. Escaping was the only way the not so living but not fully dead would hold on to their second chance at life. The zombies knew it and the police knew they had to stop them.
Jervis a man killed only a day ago in a car wreck outside of town had devised a plan to get him and his corpse bride to safety where they could finally consummate their recently documented marriage. His plan was halfway successful and he got behind the blockade with little more than some flesh lost on his shins from the nettles that filled the open areas around town. His wife was
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Literature
Knowledge is Power
A fountainhead of knowledge had always shot through Susan about midway down her left leg. It seemed to originate from a distant star in a distant star filled galaxy. She couldn't point it out to her husband because it didn't have a recognizable shape or sound. Knowledge, Susan learned from the stream and hopelessly tried to explain to her bridegroom, is odorless, tasteless, formless, and any other less that could come up later. She could feel it slicing through her though since her brain over the years had built up a nervous response to the invisible particles that commonly make up star-based streams of constant knowledge. By the time Susan turned forty she was recognized as the smartest woman in her field, and as truth would have it, over the disgust of all of the men in the world, she was the smartest person in the world by all standards. Revered by fellow women but smeared by any self-respecting man, Susan became a living, breathing division between the sexes. She felt the tension f
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Mature content
Crescent-Chapter II-Control :iconcloude:cloude 1 9
Literature
Disguise
And a creature called hope with sharp diamond lips wore his skin as he spit bullets at thorns on my rose bush arms. The bullets shred through dead petals setting them instantly ablaze. The fire traveled up my dry limbs leaving ash and smoke to crumble at the next direct hit. Wound after wound from his tommy-gun mouth dripped my last chance on to the wind, carrying it off to another place. Another place only he knows. The creature in his stead showed no concern but rather cut my tongue from my open mouth and flicked it aside as he walked away without a word. Nothing more to be said by the one-time-short-lived creature called hope wearing the skin of a hurt friend: remembered to the burned thorn bush: forgotten.
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deviantID

cloude
Nathan
Artist
United States
Personal Quote: 2 z's 2 e's and a motherfucking l
Interests
I don't set the price; life sets the price. 

Journal History

Comments


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:icon1:
1 Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2016  Professional Photographer
2015? No, no. 2016!
Reply
:iconcloude:
cloude Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2017
no 2017 ...
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:iconcatluvr2:
catluvr2 Featured By Owner Apr 15, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappy birthday!
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:iconfarand:
Farand Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2013

Dunno if you remember me but we chatted on Skype a little while ago... Are you still around?
Reply
:iconipholio:
ipholio Featured By Owner Oct 24, 2013  Professional Interface Designer
Skype chats with Nathan were HILARIOUS back in the day.
Reply
:iconcloude:
cloude Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2013
Hey they're still hilarious! Just with less wine more recognizable words. <3 Jordan  
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:iconipholio:
ipholio Featured By Owner Dec 2, 2013  Professional Interface Designer
Haha right on. What you up to these days?
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconfarand:
Farand Featured By Owner Oct 24, 2013
Unfortunately he and I have only chatted just the once. :noes:
Reply
:iconjosh:
Josh Featured By Owner May 9, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Hey dood.
Reply
:iconastrikos:
Astrikos Featured By Owner Apr 15, 2013  Hobbyist Artist
Happy Birthday! :la:
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