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About Varied / Hobbyist Member fryin' ryanMale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 3 Years
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through poor breeding
through acute needing
even the plants are seeding
looking away in jealousy, in shame
now i am seething

to make you
to make me
to make you like me
to make me

wanting every bit of no part of me
and knowing it so i inquire painfully
the answer always hurts, again i seethe
used to punish myself for this
'till i found out i'm simply guilty

to make you
never break me
to make you like me
you'll never see...just me

trapped in the spirals of my own little helix
blueprints for disaster and i swear i can feel it
always like a stain i'm washed away
like filth or dirt not allowed to stay
off on the sideline, but in the way

so now all there is just a little stain
and it only came with a little pain
frustration mounts with sweet release
forever pent up until i'm deceased
and it all ends up in a double helix stain
memory sifting through a dream
striking in realizm, yet absurd
background melts away
now in another place
elsewhere, you are occupied
in comes the sneak
accompanied by the Swanwitch
black leather cowl and black feather cape
with crowns that rise like thorns
nests of demon horns
mist on shallow water
a crumbling bridge spanning over
grey skies, leaves in october
sickle moon hanging over
many letters of regret are posted beneath my feet
i ain't no jesus but my maker will be met just shortly
dogwoods stunted, so on a telephone pole i hang
please hold, i'm getting another call, it says i should be ashamed
mixed opinions in the crowd below, not all those notes are good
ass backwards is the way i lived, never doing what i should
those in the crowd who in similar days would have wept for the lord
they simply don't like me, don't care, or are just bored
the ones who cry in my case, these people are my friends
just like me they question the drama that gets people in the end
with the guts to walk away, yet here they linger for me they stay
and i would do the same for them any fucking day
all i ask, don't waste your breath, it was never in me to pray
asking for poison, just a little something to ease the pain
and look here on ankles and hands, from my stigmata blood drains
here comes the spear, a gigging pole, a trident on its end
i gotta tell you, these redneck crucifixions are really starting to trend
well how about that-some fool in the crowd starts cranking country hybrid rap
i gotta beg the question: was i really so bad?  seems you folks pre-judge
just wait, my true friends will string you up, or bury you in the mud
that's why they're in the crowd right now, you've been marked for a later date
and when you fools' time expires they won't hesitate
so run your mouths and pop it off, call attention to yourselves
my silent friends, they are the ones taking notes in this crowd
four AM, manic, up again tonight-
but in a good way this time,
nothing to do, so i write.
outside, there's snow and ice on the ground...
i open my door, let winter in, to visit for a round.
together we sit in the living room,
so glad for the company, we speak of things.
like frosted berries on the dogwood trees,
and friends, yes, we talked of these for extended time-
i didn't know winter was friends with spring...
winter says when it goes to sleep, new budding,
and sap rising, are the last things it smells and sees.
as we spoke the room filled up with winters companion, chill.
i could see my breath and my soul was filled with frigid thrill...
as mania progressed into the night i saw winter take form-
reclining in a chair next to the couch, a crown of icesicles upon brow.
his hair was whipped and wild as if by blizzards wind,
as was his beard of brittle strands frosted from within.
blue skinned, with a sheen of frost that glowed
in the moonlight slipping through the window shades...
in elegant robes of timber wolf hides, and that is how he looked
until my mania began to subside and by sleep i was overtook.
dawn of next morning i woke up on the couch,
covered by a cloak of timber wolf hides.
in the open living room door a snowbird crouched,
ready to take flight.  perfectly sane now, having slept,
into my mind rationale crept, old mister winter had really been here.
proof in the wolf hides which he held dear...
mister winter knew that while i reveled in that cold
that i needed the warmth and he did not, and with a parting gift,
nestles me in their folds.
cop cars drift like sharks on the streets tonight
in the shadows of the bushes i crouch beneath a street light
then from up the street, lights blinking out, one lamp at a time
i know who's coming, freaking out, don't stick around, not on my dime
officer Cipher in his great white car, coming this way king of the sharks
passing under the street lights winking, snuffing them out from under in passing
sinister Cipher, one mean son of a bitch, the dime under my sack is starting to itch
the car stops by my bushes, it's no longer safe, so i break and run
from his window zips the tazer lines, way too shocking i'm out of time
how many died while trying to "escape?"  or "resisting arrest", that pig thinks it's fun
like an oyster with a pearl before that swine, he nudges me with my foot to ensure i'm alive
and fate did connive, rolling me over he reaches like a rape scene into my breeches
at least the itch went away, that punk, somehow, he knew the weed was under my junk
now i ain't superstiscious, but them lights going out, and Ciphers uncanny hunch
about where my dimebag was hiding out, too much coincidence if you ask me
this fucker is the devil or a demon at least, a donut munching fallen angel
looking down hungrily like i am sprinkles and creme
fuck!  my soul is going to jail, where i await judgement in a courtroom in hell
over the heads of mere mortal juries, reaching down he lifts me up in a hurry
like a sack of flour i'm thrown in the car, my worst experience a nightmare by far
soon we're sailing down a lonely dirt road, is he going to beat me?  my thoughts explode
the road falls away into a dark pit, and down down down we were dirt surfing it
not able to help it i scream, that old devil Cipher starts laughing and beaming
from somewhere down below a bloody red glow, so this is hell, now i know
eventually that brimstone courthouse in hell came into view and my spirit fell
judged before a jury of damned peers, my sentence was light, and earned many jeers
half of eternity i was to be darned not damned and sent to heck insted of hell
so i got off light, besides it was just a dimebag oh well...
but half of eternity is a long fucking time, half of forever i'd rot for that dime
up on earth just the day after-they legalize the shit, and i could hear Ciphers laughter
fucked up and down, and side to side, should have waited a day and stayed home that night...
coming from everywhere in multitudes
coming around to feed on you
the simple ones only want your blood
but some want favors, money or love
every one sick in some way
and you have the cure
the thing that makes them sane
cigarette mosquitos sucking up your smokes
flease cling precariously
wont let go without some money
worst of all are the favor ticks
calling on favors owed
that do not even exist
they think you owe them something
for something that they did
parasites need DDT
their something for nothing asses
need to stay away from me

Journal History


Negative-Pallor's Profile Picture
fryin' ryan
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
My name is Ryan Miller. I like to draw, mess with imagery on the gimp and other digital applications, and I like to write. I have even been paid a small amount for a published piece or short horror fiction entitled Shaman in a collection called When Nightmares Fall. Most of my visual art starts as a pencil or pen drawing and gets finished up eventually on the computer. I like the outdoors but should probably spend more time there. My outdoor hobbies include swimming, nature hikes, and medicinal herb cultivation (not weed, although I smoke plenty), and I would like to start fishing and camping more. I used to hunt a lot but shied away from guns when I became mentally unstable, however I have many archery trophies and may start hunting again with a bow or crossbow. The only thing I've killed with a bow was a squirrel, a hard target to hit, and I have killed three deer, and countless squirrels and rabbits with rifle and shotgun. I like to gig, the art of spearing fish and frogs with a long forked pole from either boat, shore, or wading water, although it's been a few years since I have owned a license to do so (I am below middle class and am on a tighter budged than I used to be), although I grew up in a middle class setting .

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SleentheBeast Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2014  Professional General Artist
Thanks so much for the fave Ryan. O haven't seen too many people on here that's been frog gigging
Negative-Pallor Featured By Owner Dec 27, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
ha, fish are easier for me to gig cause they are in schools, miss one and you might hit another on accident and up on the boat with those lights its like looking down into a night time aquarium.  and you are welcome!
SleentheBeast Featured By Owner Dec 27, 2014  Professional General Artist
We night gig flounder. I was surprised when I moved to Louisiana to find they fished for them with bait and hook. My friends acted like they had never heard of gigging them
PondHorror Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2014  Student Artisan Crafter
Thanks for faving! c:
Negative-Pallor Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
copper9lives Featured By Owner Nov 14, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
:wave: Hello, and welcome to :iconpoetryparadise:!

We're happy to have you aboard! If you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, please :note: the group and your friendly neighborhood admins will get back to you ASAP.

Currently, we're hosting a monthly contest — check it out!

DarkZoneGraphics Featured By Owner Sep 1, 2014  Professional Traditional Artist
Thank you for the :+fav:s for Spikor and Cthulhu for Charity
Negative-Pallor Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Windspirit-Aquaeris Featured By Owner May 28, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks a lot for the watch :happybounce:
Negative-Pallor Featured By Owner May 29, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
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