~Scythe-Works

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About Me Member Wannabe Novelist Scythe-Works17/Male/United Kingdom

Recent Activity Deviant for 3 Years
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Beautiful Dirt - Prologue

It was a few seconds before Mear actually realised what was happening. The wind softly shifted his clothes and fringe, his eyes staring unblinkingly at his friend. He couldn’t understand what twisted emotions could possibly have led to this moment. The friend shared the same determined gaze, although his eyes showed none of the confusion Mears’ suffered. In fact, his displayed a horrid sense of glee, tinted with a festering malice.
The cold slowly numbed Mear’s body. He could no longer feel the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. A single tear slithered slowly from his eye. He coughed, more crimson

Newest

One Last TimeA morning, as normal. The farmiliar droan of the alarm, prodding away unconciousness. Once again he opened his eyes and sighed. Yet another day. Waking up was so hard to do. Not because he was lazy, he just saw no purpose in it. He sat up, and rubbed his eyes. Sleep still maintained a hold on his body, albeit a very weakned hold. Once again, the heavy exhale. Why did he bother? He slid out of his bed and stood, stretching his tired limbs. They protested, and he cringed as he ached. All too familiar. He stumbled across the hallway into the bathroom. The family was mostly already awake. He could hear his mother pottering about downstairs, One Last Time
by ~Scythe-Works

Unfathomable EnduranceThe room we're in is bleak. Cold. Impersonal. This room has been a temporary home to many people, some alive and well. Others departed. Yet we'll never understand the anguish, the pain - until we ourselves ride the bustling train that is sickness. People join the throngs of people everyday, some stopping and leaving at what will become their last resting-place. Others manage to leave unscathed, their ride brief and somewhat temporary. This situation though, is alas not one of the latter. I could stare for hours into the eyes of this boy. My friend. However much time passed, I couldn't understand his determination. Resolute, unrele Unfathomable Endurance
by ~Scythe-Works

Reflection TheoryI'll tear it in my skin, Confines so thin. Estranged, shadows, gone. A sharp pain - won't last long.
Burning in my blood. Scarring in my veins. Cloudy, poisoned lungs. Searing...nervous, fades.
Bite and spit at speech. Force fed one pill each. Numb and senseless replacement, I am out of reach.
Rain falls up, The cold burns, Heartfelt screams are whispers.
Take my heart, Take my hand. Cut them up, dispose in sand.
Paint pictures with the drips. Crack your fingers, forget your wrists.
Reflection Theory
by ~Scythe-Works

Withdrawn
by ~Scythe-Works

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Struggling

Mon Jan 14, 2008, 12:06 PM

Mood: Emotional
Listening to: Linkin Park - Given Up

Yeah, I'm not sure at the moment what to do...

I can't write or draw anything that I immediately don't look back at and cringe. It all gets deleted or erased or whatever.

I hate having the thousands of ideas spinning round in my head but none of them actually producing anything good. They sound awesome, but are really just terrible.

I can't stand it. I have so much I want to unload into something, and this is the only thing I can find that allows me to do so. I'm never satisfied with the results though, meaning I just get more and more frustrated.

I've tried to get some exposure, some crit for my work. Some DECENT crit. Only one person has even bothered, but it doesn't make me feel like anyones particularly interested.

I don't know...

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