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About Deviant Artist NicMale/Canada Recent Activity
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I electrocute my interior to fry the creeping components, which lie there like slugs, refusing to move. Ugly, formless lumps are attached to my insides. If electricity won't eliminate it, and pushing only voids me temporarily, maybe I'll set fire to the black masses. Maybe salt will do the trick.
If I become completely empty inside, I'm sure it's only temporary. My shell will take care of things until I rebuild my scoured insides. The thin layer of hard shell will keep demons at bay. What little there lies between the inner and outside sides of the shell will suffice to carry me through the day. The embellishments I drew on myself will serve to display some semblance of identity until I fill myself with who I want to be and create new windows to radiate it all through.
What little memory I retain should be enough. One day at a time. And it's all the same, day to day, anyway. Until I find what I'm looking for. I don't know what it looks like, but surely, if I wait, I can grab onto it, s
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 1 0
I am finally come
Combing for creatures
Come I said
Infest my head
I need to learn to deal with my creature comforts
I zip. I zag. No poetries to be found here.
Just some sugar and a cryptic collection
Cryptic cacophony symphony
Words that sound good together, ready to be thrown away
Sugar buzzed
Cola mix
Sour-burnt tongue
Dreams that she's looking at me.
Sketching. Etching. Retching. Aching Soaking. Sinking. Thinking. Thinning. Spinning. Joining. Coining. Collaging. Calling.
Comforts. Word comforts ready to die.
Pick me up. Read me. See me and throw me away. A ways away. Hey
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 0 0
Prose Entry 1
He’ll fall on his hands while trekking through the cracks in his skin. He’ll reach the thumb, up and over the bruised knuckle, to perch on the tip of the nail. The surface is smoother there, so he almost has to treat it like ice.
He was ripped off at a bag store on that overcast Wednesday and then he was pushed over after 20 steps outside. He caught a blurry glimpse of black jeans and a smallish red backpack with white stripes. His first thought was that the Red Cross must be letting just anyone join their ranks. As he examined what he was sure would develop into a bruise on his palm, he suddenly felt devoid of anything. He inhaled sharply, his hands rushing to his pants pockets, and he breathed out again when he felt the familiar lumps of things. He got up and wished quietly that her hand had been there too. He imagined another passing stranger as the one to unslump him, but she was gone as quickly as everything else. He sighed, vaguely aware of the busy sidewalk and fell
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 0 2
Bombs Away
We lay there in the dark, unknowing victims of a preordained fate. "These are the best days of our lives," I mumbled. I couldn't see you and you couldn't see me. We were young and lying in the dark.
The night sprawled on, unchanging but significant. I knew somewhere within myself that this was cheesy and cliché. I didn't stop because it felt right. I loved you then and I didn't want to stop. I didn't touch you, you didn't touch me, but we were there together, mumbling in the dark.
I look back now on that night and it feels more significant than I thought it ever would. The sensations of the time were something I couldn't even begin to understand in full.
Our turmoil would go on for years afterwards without much fuss. We didn't see each other too much. I loved you. There was someone else in the room that night with us. I loved him, too. Maybe I used to love him more than I love you, maybe I love him more now. I think too much time has passed and too much silence has gotten in the
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 0 0
You made me afraid.
But I made me afraid.
It's not the things you thought
But the things I thought you thought.
For a time,
You loved me unconditionally
But I couldn't see that.
I changed myself to fit a mold
But a mold that I made.
I let my old self mould
And put my efforts toward
Becoming what I thought you would like
What you wanted
I am transformed
Some for better, some for not
Then I changed you
And here we are now.
Transfigured beyond recognition.
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 0 3
Standing Between
Is the world still
A Construction Zone?
Have I come any closer
To my truths?
Is it right
To be pulled back
And not want to return?
The world looks empty
As I approach it again
(I still continue to disassociate
The vehicles from their drivers)
The waves look like hair
And the water calls to me like film
I stare into it
And it records every inch
Of my solitude
It pulls me
And it becomes a slower walk
Back to Earth
Everything is something else now
But I am not a stranger
Something is still familiar
The memorizing tides
Keep a record of my being
So maybe not all is lost
As my feet walk away.
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 3 6
I stand
At the edge of the world
The edge as I used to know it
And as it has become
The rumble of the trains
The splashes of the running water
It is a grey and green day
The edge seems more limited than I remember it
The world looks smaller than before
I gaze into the depths
And imagine I can see the bottom
The view has changed
Maybe I've grown bigger
Maybe the world is closing,
More literally than ever,
Around me
I stand alone
As I have done so many times before
Black leather jacket
New hat
I don't think I'll ever
Lose the magic of this place
But the world here
Has become smaller
And I guess I just outgrew it
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 2 0
Speeding On, Awaiting
So here's the gravity holding us to Earth.
The silent force using it's strong hands
To hold us in the state of weight.
And I am waiting.
I am waiting, attempting arising
Awaiting for the weight to lift
To let the wind guide me to you again
So that when a letter turns to poetry
When the thoughts didn't seem enough
So it had to become poetry, old poetry
Flying against the spell of force
The old torque
The invisible bits tingling to assemble in your presence
I imagine the lift of your lips
The kissed skin of today, tomorrow, and yesterday
A gracing light on your tired face
To replace the waif of any previous distaste
A resident of sorrow lodged in the frowned folds
Of your tired eyes
I want to make your grace
I want to love your place
Make memories and more
Time forever and adored
When you kiss me again and again
And I can lie freely with you in any when
Who what where and how
With you
Every moment is now
You're my poetry in motion
Creating my lyrics and trills
The sometimes not-so-subtle
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 2 6
Trifle tickling tender times
And I slip into these rimes
The beauty rests here as never before
Still my mind chooses to swell and roar
The melancholic,
The dreary doomed
Mixing with my dreamy mood
Why on Earth must we preclude
Fancy follies soon chopped like wood?
Hurt's so natural
But isn't love the same?
The course of lovers never rode tame
I'll play the track to darken my eyes
Despite the light of shining skies
I'll waver, uncertain of anything sure
She'll come and greet me at the door
The embrace will last and I will forget
I don't need to consider regret
Sad songs will be as they will be
There's still joy aplenty for her and me
Let's not ruin possibility with future's shade
Let's stay present and content for today
The here and now is in my arms
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 1 4
Small Words
When the song ends abruptly
And the old deafening silence perturbs your every sense
In it you are numb
Glancing down, side to side
Looking for something to look at
Something to speak to you and unlock you
From this tight tight time
The breath will quicken slightly as your fingers quiver and curl
Searching for more to do
And I will think and wonder and follow suit
As all possibility floods my ears and eyes
An onlooker turned participant
It's none of my business
But I tint my own thoughts dark
And I worry and frown about you
This beautiful Monday morning now juxtaposed
It's how the world will always exist
Beauty next to despair
One can talk about the future all they want
But the clouds will always loom close by
It's up to us to reach for sunshine
A quake can shake us off our feet
But we can stand up again if we try
We can cry
But let's hope for sunshine after this rain
Past the pain
I just want to keep walking
Please let's keep walking
Crossroads and ends will come
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 0 7
Where did she go? And where will she be a year from now? Each person we meet has an effect on us.
What will she mean to me when I come to reflect on her again in some distant day?
I do not wish to ever forget the people who, regardless of how long or short our meeting was, have dealt me a world of things to consider and times that hold a weight of memory heavier than fine sand. Though maybe nothing is fine sand.
I don't think most of us realize the effect we have on people. Even the meekest of us hold some sway in the paths of those we choose to surround ourselves with . . . or those we chose to avoid.
And then perhaps the ones whom we know for the shortest of times, those whom we can condense months worth of shared experiences into, say, a week, maybe 2, maybe just a few days, either altogether or scattered through weeks and months, are the ones who leave the longest reverberation as time floats by.
I held for the longest time that the best friend I ever had was a boy I knew in presch
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 1 4
Just as you are
Nothing is deep anymore.
All my notions are fucked, but that's how I've got to work with them.
Or maybe I'm just getting existential again.
Human condition, eh?
(But don't be too hard on yourself.)
I'm very silly, really. No joke. We all are a bit, I think. Some people, perhaps more than others. And I have to organize my circus a bit better.
Toggle, toggle, toggle.
Being as vague as possible, the notions that lead my conductance, it's all too much to bear.
Dogged by bears, cooling my igloo with reluctance after improper construction. Okay, that really made no sense.
(Just calm down. What are you fretting over?)
There's no rhyme or reason here! I can't figure this shit out.
(But would you willingly give up?)
Gosh, I don't even know how. Or what. Or . . . anything.
That's the crisis.
That's the issue.
I can't bear it.
Something's dragging me down again.
Is this helping?
When you head home. And the lights dim. You lie your head down on your pillow.
What does your character think of when h
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 1 6
Will You Be Coming Home?
I flip onto my back and let the world hold me down
I curl up on my side to shield myself from it.
I roam and ravage my mind with thoughts unkind
And what's the worst of it?
I want to come home.
And what does that even mean?
I sit to ground myself to Earth
I sleep to let it wash over me
I wake to push against it
And what's the worst of it?
I don't change a thing.
I want to come home.
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 0 0
Soon swooning
Falling under her spell again
Enchantment coursing
Pulsing invisible and clear
I'll bury my head
Palms to hold my head steady
As it spins
As I spin
Life past stars
Floating caresses
We will reach our hands up
Brush fingertips with fate
Fill my mind with radiance
Bring me to calm again
As we are
As we are
As I've always dreamed it to be.
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 0 2
Layers of cloud
Sliding out
Or sliding in
To cover or hide in amongst themselves
Glide graceful sweet things
Shift above
Shift Below
Sometimes all that is
Move on sweet things
Bitterness comes
It stays
We cow in twisted shapes
Unaware we be
Move again
Shift through
Slide past these and those
Clouds above
I'm driving down the highway
Trees darting past
Sun falling on and off my words
The whole world
The whole world being
Be in clouds
Or ground in dirt
Gliding, sliding, moving
Drift sweet shapes
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 0 2
Inside the Slide
Learning to roll with the endings in life.
A sadness still pervades the stillness after the life of a time.
And I fear the times when I can no longer cry.
A camera stares in my direction to capture the state of my exterior soul, but I'm too weak to stare back and lend a smile, a facade so easily perpetrated.
As much despair as there may be in endings, I know there must be joy . . . there is joy in the experience amongst the stars of the night, after the sunshine of the day leaving us with a dusk . . . beautiful sunset . . .
I will lay my head down at night, under a roof shutting the moon and stars out of my vision . . . the chill of night keeps me inside . . .
Funny how the same goose bumps brought on by the inciting joy in life before the end also arrive with the seeming despair of the end . . .
Shall I weep?
With what notion shall the tears flow?
Past the then, the now, and the afterwards . . .
:iconnic-the-33rd:Nic-the-33rd 0 2

Random Favourites

enter and exit the void by Dustfull enter and exit the void :icondustfull:Dustfull 1 2
Do you ever lie in bed
and think of the things
that make you the most sad in the entire world?
I never try to
it sort of happens
and I don't know why it happens
it just does.
I was lying in bed
trying to think of what color my hair was three years ago
when I went to Europe.
Then I don't really know how it happened
my head started to sort of spin and spiral and twirl.
And then I was thinking about when I used to
take music lessons.
Then I was thinking about when I used to
for my music school.
Then I started thinking about the worst performance I ever had.
It was actually my best performance,
but the worst time for me
because my friend had attempted suicide the night before.
And I was singing two songs about
people who had left
or disappeared
[Gone- Nsync
She's got a new disguise- Matthew Good Band]
and suddenly every line of those songs
applied to him.
What was I supposed to do?
Be okay?
Not cry?
Not feel a thing?
I was in public, so I suppose the correct answer to those questio
:iconcbfan:cbfan 2 1
lights by liebe-sie lights :iconliebe-sie:liebe-sie 7 8
Bus stop.
"Last stop!" She calls out loudly, looking at me, the last individual on said bus.  
"Sorry?" I question, not understanding my situation.
"Last stop, no more busses." She replies.  
I leave the bus with pride, letting it seem like I know where I am.
Secretly though, I'm lost.  I need help.  I want to be home, I want to be sleeping.
I shiver, then find a bus shelter and sit quietly, looking at the pay phone.
I could call my parents, but I don't want to be a hassle.  I'm scared, but only as much as the reflection in the glass.  I sit and hope and shiver and doubt.
I break down and call them, regretting it.  I would walk home if I knew where I was, regardless of the cold.
I sit and wait for my father to come.
What if he wasn't alive to help me?
What if no one was alive to help me?
Hell.  What if no one was alive?
:iconits-too-soon:Its-too-soon 2 1
Sock Puppet: Red by migrn Sock Puppet: Red :iconmigrn:migrn 3 6
The sound of insanity.
I lay in my bed knowing of the bad.  Feeling self conscious and hateful towards everything.  I lay awake knowing that all I can have is bad.  All I can be is useless.  All I can do is fail and fail and fail again.  Perfect proof of failage comes from you, and her, and him.  My job, my apartment, my weight, my skills, my fears.
So I close my eyes and hear foot steps.  I shiver, I fear.  I get up and grab anything.  Take a look around.  Around every corner.  Inside every closet.   Why am I so unable to find this foot step?  I creep back to my room and close the door.  Baracade it.  Surely, if someone is here I will hear.  Secretly, I wish someone was there.  I don't want to be lonely anymore.  
Friends?  Everyone is an intentional bigot.  Everyone wants to be so unique and I just want t
:iconits-too-soon:Its-too-soon 1 1
shadowplay by liebe-sie shadowplay :iconliebe-sie:liebe-sie 112 22
She is alive
She puts on her high heels and mascara and runs in the city streets. She chases after her racing thoughts, not wanting them to leave her behind, alone. She runs until her heart is aching, until she can’t feel herself breathing. She likes the sight of quickly oncoming headlights, the loud warning of a nervous horn. The thought that in an hour, in a minute, she might not be alive. It’s terrifying, it’s thrilling, it’s beautiful. She runs, dodging cars and voices. She runs until the sky glows periwinkle, sprinkled with silver craft glitter rather than strewn with stars.
She wishes she had someone to hold. She wants to cry. She doesn’t want to be invisible. She wants to experience love, compassion. The feel of a strong embrace. A kiss on the forehead. An understanding smile. Someone else’s shoulder, warmly welcoming her tears.
She makes coffee for the color of the grounds, the sound of the coffee machine, and the warmth of the cup in her hand. She takes her co
:iconliebe-sie:liebe-sie 3 5
Summer feeling. by liebe-sie Summer feeling. :iconliebe-sie:liebe-sie 9 5 To Better Days... by Wimchomble To Better Days... :iconwimchomble:Wimchomble 1 3 Hidden Away by ayce-of-spades Hidden Away :iconayce-of-spades:ayce-of-spades 13 10 summer nostalgie by adorelife summer nostalgie :iconadorelife:adorelife 4 1 Simply by miss-mosh Simply :iconmiss-mosh:miss-mosh 2,755 222 I feel like going home by barbaralanza I feel like going home :iconbarbaralanza:barbaralanza 158 25 Right. Queue up, then. by time-lost-evidence Right. Queue up, then. :icontime-lost-evidence:time-lost-evidence 3 3


It's only natural that I'm a little mournful now. It's only a little natural that I'm writing now. I wish I could do this without having to go through some inner turmoil.  

It's true, creativity yearns to escape naturally out of passion, whether it be exuberant or downhearted, but can't something be made out of simply being? That's what I want to do.

I realize that I'm living the human experience all the time. I stop all the time and let imaginary lenses cover my eyes to snap the moment into a frame in my mind. In a second, everything becomes nostalgic. And then I let it go and walk on. I get quiet and watch and listen, smile and nod at every passing joke. Maybe this is a little typical . . . but I feel myself become the enigma time and time again, even to myself. I slip behind everyone's vision as something between flesh and shadow. At least, this is what I feel.

I suppose the funny thing is that nothing is probably as I see it despite the fact that my eyes are so often fixed on everyone else going through their own motions, as my mind peddles through possibilities and takes notes.

At the base of it, I guess someone could simply say that the boy is still struggling to find himself and is actually subconsciously absorbed with wondering what everyone thinks of him and with what everyone is thinking as they move through their own spaces, motions, notions.

There's a lot I wish I knew, there's a lot I wish I could do, think, express, figure out, become . . .

I chalk up every time I go out someplace by myself, whether it be eating at a restaurant alone or going to see a show by myself, as an experience to better my self-esteem and confidence.

But everyone needs to know that someone needs them. And life must be lived in equal parts in solitude and in companionship.

So where does this lead me? Where am I now? Why am I writing?

I was happy last night because I got to be excited and experience something that I don't often do.

I'm disappointed in myself now because I let some people down.

But is it all minutiae?

Simplicity never truly comes easily.

The motions is what they call them.

The road ahead for me is shadowy and vague. It's as it is every time I go out alone. Sitting on the metro, riding to some destination that I've never been before, my brain running through the cinematic perspectives I often apply to my life (perhaps stemming from my habit of escapism). I'm dogged by gnawing. I've got a smile on my face. The people keep walking. I plough on vaguely. I just can't let it get to me.

I don't know where I am.


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alivein85 Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2011
hay, it has been a while, i only seem to come on here when i'm in ireland and bored ;P
Nic-the-33rd Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2011
Man, wish I was in Ireland and bored!
Dustfull Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2010
oh thank you for the watch :)
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