Sta.sh
And then I saw your face. |
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And then I saw your face. |
summertime.i've realized i miss you most in the summer. when we were together, we belonged to the cold; trees would lose their leaves, winter winds would blow, but the summer was ours. it was a time when we could leave essays and exams behind and start dreaming. a time for stargazing and raindancing and treeclimbing. for the wild. for us.summertime. by =jonathoncomfortreed
i feel so out of place. in the light of a bonfire or the wind of a highway, i find myself thinking: you would have loved this. and i get lost in memories of running through a subway station, reaching for lights across the dark ocean or swinging by a lake and dangling our feet in the stars.
this has always been a seas
     With a camera in my hands; I love photography, and I always have. I strive to capture that "moment" and keep it forever. And a pen behind my ear; I'm a writer, focusing on short stories and poetry; I love to convey emotion with words. A laptop in my bag; I do a lot of experimentation with digital art and other technology. I like to learn new things. And imagination in my heart. Artistic expression comes to me like breathing. I couldn't live without it. |
Art means a lot more to me than people think. It's that reminder that there's something more. Something worth living for. Something worth dreaming about. There's only us. |
For a smileMy hands once were a basket, of fingers entwined to gather your eyes and bottle them in paraffin hopes.For a smile by =HtBlack
"He loves you.", you would say at first, just to glimpse my smile.
You would look, always forever look. And those shadows in your gaze would linger on my skin as I, one by one, took them patiently from your iris.
"He loves you not.", you would say, but I saw in those shadows a wink.
My mood swung like a see-saw, pushed to and fro by your torn lids, and I held on to them as if about to fall.
"He loves you.", you would say, just to breathe in my giggle.
You would smile, always forever smile. And that smile would gradually turn into a
Polishing the BrassDo not vote for me. I am too young, and you need a wise-man, steeped in tradition, not a warrior. Do not vote for me, because I am terrifying. I will change your world, and that is a discomfort. I will alter your routine and cut passages through the mountains that block your minds, sending winding train tracks of iron between ideas. I will send your souls on an exodus from the everyday mediocrity, and lead you to fertile soil beyond. Some of you will die. So do not vote for me.Polishing the Brass by ~RebelTango
You do not need me to lead you, because you are comfortable, invincible, untouchable, unsinkable. To deviate from what you know would be a risk. It would be
| I (sometimes) have fleeting moments of artistic- ness.  “He’s lonely, just another dreamer-boy with his head in the clouds. For a boy who would never be loved, he had so much love in him.”  > I’m a dreamer. I’m a prince. Welcome to my life. |
 ^ My twin. Half of my heart. [~WanderingHere] ^ This is a reminiscence of playing Super Mario World with my big brother.  [~ProvenParadox] |
 ^ Deal with it. ;] |
~WanderingHere and ~ProvenParadox
Offering critiques — — for anyone needing constructive feedback on their artwork. I love to help out any artists in need of advice and ideas, so here is your chance! Just ask.   Send a note or just leave a comment on my profile! |
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I have a ridiculously busy life beyond deviantART, so I'm constantly far behind on the comments/replies in my message box. I'll be more likely to get your message if you send a note, but if it's really important, email me at jonathonreed@me.com. Apologies for any inconvenience — Jonathon |
