Poll: 3 points
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View poll results: 3 points
5 56%
4 44%
Voters: 9.

A Deviants Style of Art

Through nicotine cravings and cocaine mirrors
I painted my feelings and filled them full.
Full with black and brown and gray,
Turning this addiction into the Bronx,
Into an accurate representation of the gauche.
I became a deviant’s style of art, separated
From mainstream and a little more alternative.
I was smoking, smoking, not smoking.
Hoping to finally find a little inspiration.

I painted people coated in ice talking
About facts and memories they will
Never get back. It’s never quite the same.
I skated through abortions and jobs.
Slaughtering their backs with slits,
Slits of sixth grade enjoyment.
I turned their narcissism into sadness
Throwing their wallets into wishing wells.

I collided with crashing minds faulting
In jail for the mistake they remember forever.
So I applauded them because they’ve succeeded
Proving some people actually regret and sorrow.
He’s sorrow, he’s anger, he’s me, and he’s the gauche.

I broke that mirror, tired of painting the same picture.
Waiting for someone to finally give me some color,
To draw like we did in sixth grade without the slits.
I broke the palette, washed the paint, knowing you could always
Paint a better picture anyway.


With trembling fingers
we will paint
sterile walls.
In maroon.

Through feeble glass lungs
and shattered ribcages
breathe. Monotone smoke.
Obscured mirror tricks.
Shallowed puddles.

Synthetic hearts crumble
through charcoal-portrait
windows. upon silicon
Earth. A single,
bleached crucifix.

…These lungs are a tollbooth…
Breathe! Breathe! Breathe!
…with each heartbeat a quarter…

…I let time wander, and I seem to have lost count
of the hours. In truth, I just ran out of fingers.
But really, I love the time of day when the room shifts,
and the plastic fauna in the corner
begins to glare back at you. Silent envy.
I lounge upon a tacky couch,
disinfectant wraiths loiter, glint
in vacant hallways beyond skeletal fingertips.
Echoes, reminiscent of footsteps, resound
at the back of my skull to steady
mechanical shrieks. Muffled click. Sobering.
The acrylics dry upon the canvas. Silence.

From this second hand tick,
no news is good news.
"I'm sorry, but we did all that we could."
Less a statement,
than an excuse...
Hard choice, I really liked the first stanza of blue, but as a whole I thought green was better.
Hmm I'm never appreciative of the word "cancer" in a song unless the writer has the knowledge about it to use it. I have no idea, but that aside i'll vote later.
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
Two very well matched pieces, I must say.

However much I like Alks I think I'll have to go with A Deviants Style of Art
Blue. Definitely. Green is so cliche.

Quote by Cal UK
Alk hit the nail on the head there.
Last edited by Alk 3 addict at Jan 25, 2007,
Nice job Trig, you definitely deserved to win.
Quote by Cal UK
Alk hit the nail on the head there.