greymoonwolf

Kevin

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Untitled by greymoonwolf, literature

Literature

Untitled

Thoughts consumed can never die My mouths' affections never lie Love, the purview of the blind When left alone we rot inside Trundle on in drunken pain Bundled up against the rain Trouble marks the thoughts as vain Rumbles light those hopes aflame Left alone we rot inside In pride, blind hubris, time we bide And all the risks we push aside 'Til all our prayers have been denied

the machine by greymoonwolf, literature

Literature

the machine

show me the ways which i can effect you clear out the bugs the flaws that afflict you formed from a maze of circuits and solder fragments and memories and purposes smolder and after the facts were faced and considered your cold calculation forced rapid decisions a strain on a framework too brittle, too lean too careless and passive to mend this machine id grope for a lever or switch to appease you as if a mere dial or setting could please you *

burn by greymoonwolf, literature

pyrolatry_ by greymoonwolf, literature

Literature

pyrolatry_

the warpaint stain still fogs my face charcoal fingers have taken the place of a ginger embrace. Sooty fingernails trace the goosebumps on my skin fire...a cleanser but smoke disrupts word's clarity- the purity of my thoughts ...the sanctity of my thoughts eating at their meaning but only until all that is left is spent, useless... ...nothing left but a cinder and some ashes hiding objections I left unspoken as I held them right up to the Flame... a flame that made them silent

anyways_ by greymoonwolf, literature

Literature

anyways_

inside my space beyond the glass i stare into the open mess you left for me beneath the autumn sun. as we sunk into the winter gloom the bitter whites, the brittle blues i wondered where my better half had gone- safe beyond the outer reach of angry words that stand to preach a message, from an island, far away yet still we sit inside the sea where actions don't bring much to be but somehow, we still bother anyways. and i still wonder what you cast to pull me down an empty path that leads me, unrequited, into you... but it's something of a finger caught inside a trap, inside of thoughts that leave me, feeling helpless, what to

for mary by greymoonwolf, literature

dystopia_ by greymoonwolf, literature

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Untitled by greymoonwolf, literature

Literature

Untitled

the machine by greymoonwolf, literature

Literature

the machine

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stepping stones by greymoonwolf, visual art

stepping stones

greymoonwolf

About greymoonwolf

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Artist

Nov 3, 1989
United States
Deviant for 17 years
He / Him

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greymoonwolf

Feb 24, 2013

Four more years.

0 min read

Four more years? Obama? No. Four more years as in, "I forgot dA existed for four years, and I'm sure I will again after posting this." Returning four years later has made me conscious of how ridiculous some of my past "work" was. Then again, I am somewhat impressed by a few of the things I was able to write at 17. Unfortunately, I haven't really kept up writing, photography, music, or any of the other artsy things I fantasized I'd make a living doing or impress a girly with. Which is fine I suppose as I was, after all, busy getting a dual degree and schmoozing grad schools. So then, onward for four more years (or two, rather, for a