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The Fall Of An Artist: Chapter 25The morning sun shining through the window wakes Jason from his slumber.
He gets up from the couch when he realizes that he has an immense thirst.
He walks over to the sink and fills a glass with water.
After drinking it the thirst is not quenched, but has rather grown stronger.
“Under the sink.” Jason hears his own voice say.
“Look under the sink.”
With a sense of trepidation Jason obeys the inexplicable drive to do as he is told.
He crouches down and opens the cupboard under the sink.
“There it is.”
In front of Jason is a bottle of expensive whiskey.
“I’ll drink this when I sell the fjord.” Jason tells himself as he puts the bottle in the cupboard.
Next to the whiskey is an unopened bottle of pills.
“Drink it. Drink all of it.”
“You’re thirsty right.”
“Then have a drink.”
Jason takes the bot
The Fall Of An Artist: Chapter 24“No!”
Jason sits up in bed, gasping for breath.
Rose wakes up next to him.
“What is it?” she asks.
“I am Death.” Jason says.
“Those words… I heard those words… I said those words. Why did I say that?”
“It was just a night terror. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Jason looks around.
“Why am I here?”
“I will kill you.”
“Was I drunk?”
“How are you feeling?”
“Confused by that dream, but otherwise I’m fine.”
“I’ll make us breakfast.”
Rose walks to the door.
Jason gets out of bed.
“Oww, dammit!” he exclaims.
“My knee is just acting up again.”
“Stay here. I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.”
“No, I’ll just fall asleep again.”
“Let me at least wrap a bandage aro
The Fall Of An Artist: Chapter 23“You’re Michael right?”
The skull is made up of smaller skulls.
“What is this?”
The black corruption is consuming the world.
“Death and I have the same face.”
Blood stains a white dress as it flows from an open wound.
“I am Death and I will have my prize.”
The Fall Of An Artist: Chapter 20“My Light.” Jason says.
He had finally finished the details of the painting.
Rose was standing in a gently sunlit forest.
Her black hair falling over her shoulders creates a beautiful contrast against her white dress.
Her smile is reflected in her beautiful light blue eyes, lighting up her face.
She seems to be happy and at peace.
A knock on the door.
Jason covers My Light with a cloth and opens the door.
“Jason Lambesis?” the man at the door asks.
“We’re here to take the paintings to the gallery.”
“What’s your name?”
“John du Plessis.”
“Okay, just hold on.”
Jason calls Louis.
“Jason is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just calling about the transport.”
“Did they not turn up?”
“There is a John du Plessis here. I just want to make sure he is the right guy.”
“Yeah, it’s him.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you lat
The Fall Of An Artist: Chapter 19Jason opens his eyes and is frightened at what he sees, until he realizes that his newest painting is in front of him.
He gets up off the couch and goes over to the counter.
He lights a cigarette while he waits for his coffee to finish.
“There is so much darkness here, I should create some light.”
He pours himself a cup of coffee and places a blank canvas on the easel.
Next he sits down in front of the canvas and closes his eyes, trying to visualize a painting.
He starts painting a background of green and brown.
Next he starts making some more differentiated lines along with some golden yellow rays.
It is starting to resemble the sunlit forest where he met his doppelganger.
With the forest done, Jason puts down the brushes and gets up.
He goes back to the counter to get another cup of coffee.
The sun had set faster than Jason had thought and it was getting dark.
He takes two pills to dull the pain in his shoulder.
He wonders whether he will be able to finish the painting as
The Fall Of An Artist: Chapter 18Jason barely recognizes himself in the mirror.
His face is emotionless and almost dead.
It seems as if Ansel sees him as a stranger as well.
He had run up to Jason when the front door opened, but then shied away from his hand.
Jason feeds Ansel and goes out.
He gets in his car and drives to an art supply shop.
Jason sits on the couch in his studio.
He lights a cigarette and stares at the large blank canvas in front of him.
He gets up, takes his paint and walks to the canvas.
There he gets down on his knees and draws a light horizontal line dividing the canvas.
About one third of it is below the line.
“This is not working.”
He gets up and walks over to the counter.
There he opens a new bottle of whiskey and pours himself a double.
Next he takes out two pills and swallows them by gulping down the whiskey.
He goes back to the canvas and adds a hill shaped line to the existing line running through the canvas and starts painting the background.
Jason works through the night.
TreatyThe long war
Between the heart and brain
A treaty has been signed.
Bringing harmony between self
We call it poetry.
I Wasn't Supposed To Be Worth It.Was it worth it?
Trading the taste of cinnamon on your lips
To smell like cigarettes and a painful hangover.
Was life so cruel to your perfectly skewed smile,
That you had to swallow a bottle of brandy
Every night at 9 pm
To hear yourself laugh again?
How could I have not noticed
The tremor in your right hand
Every time you held a pen?
Was I so blind for the love you had for me to see
That my love was destroying you?
'I am yours.' You whispered when you still had Petrichor surrounding you.
I inhaled your scent like oxygen,
All the while I suffocated you like sulfur.
You gave me your heart on a plate,
And I was the last pill that took your life away from you too.
Mother always told me I broke the things I had
Because that is how I was;
Selfish and undeserving.
I didn't deserve you.
You weren't supposed to be mine.
This is for youThis is for you
The one who has had a heartbreak
or two or three
You are not alone
You walk among friends
Of young and old
Hard and soft
Smart and stupid
No matter what happens
Get back up again
Fight the battle
Win the seige
Reclaim your life
Take back your heart
Eyes Of EarthIt's the way you see me,
without flaw or condemnation.
It's the way you look at me,
with challenge and dare.
You're the apple of my eye,
and your eyes of earth are my Eden.
It's the way you touch me,
without egotism or sin.
It's the way you feel me,
with worship and devotion.
You're the Paradise upon my skin,
and your hands of divine are my Heaven.
The Night Is OursThe Night Is Ours
The soft pressure of your lips
The firm hold on my hips
The raindrops pooled on the leaves splash around us as they drip
The brush of your fingertips against my skin
The small kiss I place on your chin
The flower petals break away in the wind; they dance and spin
Your whisper in my ear: "Please."
The weakness I feel in my knees
The song of our love is carried away by the breeze
You gently caress my face
The night listens to both our hearts race
As the wind blows, the dandelion seeds dance with effortless grace
You hold me in your embrace
I can't get enough of your taste
The birds sing their beautiful melody, set at their own pace
Our fingers interlaced
Your hands around my waist
The crickets add their heavenly tune to the nocturnal chase
The stars reflected in my eyes
Your hands running down my thighs
The night is lit by a mystical glow produced by the fireflies
The kiss on your nose
The tingling in my toes
All my feelings, my very being, is now in front of you, expos
Demons of the NightHidden in shadows, kept away from the light
Are the unknown enemies, the demons of the night
Who live on our fear and yet die from fright
These living contradictions, these demons of the night
Demons of the night who haunt us in our dreams
They find the weakness in our psyche and tear at the seams
Yet, they flow fast in our minds, like a river in the rain
They cause us so much misery, yet they themselves are in pain
Hidden from the sun and the light of the moon
But the lights from their hearts, from that, they aren't immune
They are predators, we are prey, and on us they leave their mark
But, in a sense, they're just like us...so why are we scared of the dark?
It was not loveIt was not love I sought with such desire
For I knew not it would require
A greater part than I wished to reveal
While searching for a love I deemed ideal.
It was not love we shared with such devotion
For what we felt was no emotion,
It was nothing but a lie
We shared together, you and I.
It was not love we felt but we were trying
Not to feel alone by lying
So, by griping tightly on each other
The little lie we soon did smother.
I AmI am, Black Wolf
I am, Dark Rose
I am, Hidden Shadow
I am, Grey Rain
I am, Weightless Stone
I am, Shattered Diamond
I am, Muted Song
I am, Silent Echo
I am, Dimmed Light
I am, Wandering Thought
I am, Scattered Dream
I am, Lost Path
I am, Bleary Image
I am, Murky Water
I am, Gray Rainbow
I am, Faded Glory
I am, Tarnished Star
I am, Dead Spark
I am, Busted Bubble
I am, Thoughtless Mind
I am, Plotless Plan
I am, Breathless Voice
I am, Flightless Wing
I am, Colorless Petal
I am, Bladeless Grass
I am, Shapeless Vase
I am, Lifeless Flame
PurityA creature came toward me
With love in its gentle eyes
It almost brought me to tears
A creature that offers us nothing but good
And how do we repay this act of kindness
What hath becometh of thee
That thou repayeth
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
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