RainyDaySmile

Candlelight. by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

Candlelight.

1. hallway Around him, the dark is complete; shadows tease at the edge of his tiny shivering pool of light, threatening to conquer him entirely. Still he holds his meager candle aloft, and continues on through the chilled, pitch corridor. As far as he can tell, this is an endless hall of doors. There are no numbers on any of them--just door after door. They're all made of dark, lacquered wood, with little silver doorknobs. They told him this was the only way. He isn't sure what he is looking for here, or what he needs to do, but they told him this was the only way, and so here he is. "For you," he mu

freeflow vol. 3 by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

freeflow vol. 3

dear monsters in my closet, or under my bed you aren't half as bad as the ones in my head i never fall asleep, i'm just playin' dead i'm writing to say that i preferred you instead back in days where sunshine flowed fine in slow time and my mind was just fine, i didn't need lines designed to give art to the dark parts of my heart, where the chorus starts: my scars are the lyrics i can't stand hearing they're damned near searing, and they're sung so clearly dear me, it's near me, the mirror and the ceiling and i'm waiting for the meaning to so my heart can start beating but then they start speaking, but then they start screaming

freeflow vol. 2 by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

freeflow vol. 2

she was a sweet thing, a sweet queen of hearts but i was a joker—it just wasn't in the cards and she took it kinda hard as she fled to her car to the nearest bar to head for Mars— no i didn't want to mar such a work of art, but that's just how we are: perpetually conceptual, especially towards nuptials, you say you won't but yes you will, you'll break someone too—because that's what we do, dance in the dark with another hand in ours, under fake stars, wearing very real scars under smiles we slip on like masks, the task asks for fast laughs and a slow touch, like such? yes beautiful, let's head back to my place s

freeflow vol. 1 by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

freeflow vol. 1

so see there's this girl, i met her under black skies and there was something dark just under her eyes it wasn't eyeliner, it was more like a shadow, i'm sure it was minor, but it made her look hollow and i swallowed down a line about how i'd like to make her mine because my mind was like a mine ready to go, so i got ready to go, but did an about face, there was something about her face that made my heart race to keep pace with the thought that i ought to start running, ought to start screaming, but i can't wake up because i can't stop dreaming, and i wonder if i'm breathing or if the way my chest is heaving is just deceiving,

every now and then i wonder... by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

every now and then i wonder...

can't write right now because the words are all the same, i always write the same ones at first—dreams and stars and rain and God, she and he and we and me—and maybe its because that's what means the most to me, or maybe i'm just a broken record, right? somewhere, my bruised brain is failing to break the brink. every now and then i wonder, when these same words fall from my fingers yet again, if i'm subconsciously guarding something from myself—some hidden grove in my head, where my deepest demons sit and giggle; i can almost hear them whisper secrets about me even i don't know, like i know why your smile's so frag

the walls won't talk to me. by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

the walls won't talk to me.

the walls aren't talking. i'm crazy. okay, look i know all poets like to say that, they're crazy, right? they're insane, and so their dark odysseys are acceptable because, you know, they're nuts, not hang-you-from-the-ceiling-fan -because-it'd-be-funny-to-see-you-moving-while-you're-DEAD loony, but the good kind of crazy, where it all it means is spilled ink instead of blood. this ain't that kind of crazy. this crazy is sliding its claws across my shoulders and back as it crawls toward my head and thus my shoulders and back are straightening bit by bit as i feel it part the back of my neck and slip into my head and now its gi

lemme tell you somethin'. by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

lemme tell you somethin'.

hey, over here yeah, right here, the guy on fire, with the weirdly twitching smile as he's trying to decide how to put this me, right? okay look it's not easy for me to say what i'm about to say because every single screeching nerve in my body is surging and some of them are short circuiting because thoughts are dying on the electric vine, love, and i'm trying to clean this up before i say it out loud, i mean, sound is a way of painting the world with words and if they're the wrong words then it'll be the wrong color and you won't see what i'm trying to show you, you'll just cock your head (and make your hair tumble in that b

liar, liar. by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

liar, liar.

i've never understood the phrase home sweet home, because there was nothing sweet about home—home was a place i went when it was time to come out from under the fake stars they hung on poles to guide me up and down the street at night, when the air was too still to breathe and the silence was worse than what was waiting for me up the steps and through the busted screen door. there was a monster in the house. it didn't bother hiding under the bed, or in the closet. it lived in bottles with funny names on them, and cans, and baseball bats, and quivering smiles. the monster glittered in people's eyes, and growled in their

a long winter, episode 1 by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

a long winter, episode 1

The man named Stoat lived up to his alias; he was an insignificant creature in both proportion and presence, nearly lost in a cheap suit I am certain he thought was sharpish. He was seated at the bar, nursing his beer. The air in the pub was choked with smoke and laughter and shouts. I took the seat next to Stoat. "Hello," I ventured. The bartender placed a gin and tonic under my nose. I nodded and flipped him a copper. Stoat grunted in reply, not bothering to look in my direction. "Nice night out, isn't it?" "I came here to have a drink, not a chat, guv'. Buzz off." "Stoat, right?" I continued, ignoring him and sipping at the d

un-. by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

un-.

i am. unraveling. IIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiiiii think i thought i was thinking when really i was watching the world wind up and it went tick tick tick, click click click boom and then my nerves were all fused circuits if i opened my mouth you might hear the crackling of mi

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Featured Gallery

Candlelight. by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

Candlelight.

freeflow vol. 3 by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

freeflow vol. 3

freeflow vol. 2 by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

freeflow vol. 2

freeflow vol. 1 by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

freeflow vol. 1

every now and then i wonder... by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

every now and then i wonder...

the walls won't talk to me. by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

the walls won't talk to me.

lemme tell you somethin'. by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

lemme tell you somethin'.

liar, liar. by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

liar, liar.

a long winter, episode 1 by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

a long winter, episode 1

un-. by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

un-.

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Favourites

goodnight kiss by 345652SW38, literature

Literature

goodnight kiss

your kisses were poison, made me nauseous. left the words in my stomach to sizzle and writhe, until i vomited poetry.

Fractured by NormanPlume, literature

Literature

Fractured

Call me Jezreel though I am not. I still answer to the name my mother gave me, though she is not my mother; I've known her too long and too well. Just a woman, then, but not just a woman, just as I am not my father. So I shall be Jezreel. Sorry. I'll start again. When I was my father the thorns were mine. They were my first crop and in time inherited everything. Their spread took root in fresh plots every day, besieging the flower pots, coiled like barbed wire across the neighbourhood. I watered them, proud to be a father at last, until at last my garden walls were no longer visible from space. My garden was a black core of wall

Star Swallower by PursuingTheCerberus, literature

Literature

Star Swallower

She's an enigma. her head, a stadium drowning with applause. yet its seats are empty like the notebooks where armies of words should be marching. instead she dismantles clocks thinking she can play with time. behind the mountains lurks a darker reasoning a twisted labyrinth of rationalizations hidden from the suns brilliance. Years alone beneath the bleached fluorescent reading those already dancing in the moonlight. she is living a literary half-life through them hiding from the symmetry of the writer. licking salty rocks of excuses. saving her secrets for posthumous excavation. decades of productivity left for moths to chew. you're throw

Deviation Spotlight

the knife. by RainyDaySmile, literature

Literature

the knife.

It was one of those cold winter nights where the silvered moonlight fell in brittle, splintered beams through the claws of dead trees--it was one of those cold winter nights where cigarette smoke hung eternal in the chilled air. He sat on a gravestone, puffing idly at the cigarette. A pale man in suitably somber attire, his green eyes glittered in the moon's frigid radiance; a tiny cross on a chain around his neck gleamed. It had been polished to a brilliant shine. "Come along," he whispered. His clouded breath collided with the ribbons of smoke pervading the air, and they both disappeared. They all disappear. The graveyard was old, and

the knife.

About RainyDaySmile

Artist

Jan 29
United States
Deviant for 18 years
He / Him

Badges

My Bio

_{there's a madness in my method, a blessed
test of the insurrection in ink}

Current Residence: Muskogee, OK
Favourite genre of music: ALL OF IT
Favourite photographer: i've seen quite a few talented photograpers on here. can you tell i'm not a visual artist?
Favourite style of art: surrealism
Operating System: XP
MP3 player of choice: PSP
Personal Quote: If idle hands were the devil's workshop, then my soul's his warehouse.

Favourite Visual Artist

there's quite a few whose work i've learned to appreciate

Favourite Movies

Hot Fuzz

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

all of it

Favourite Writers

david foster wallace, christopher durang, edward albee

Favourite Games

Street Fighter

Favourite Gaming Platform

360

Tools of the Trade

Pen, paper, keyboard, screen, head

Other Interests

video games, theater, music, Shakespeare, writing, etc.--creative stuff

Posts

Apr 18, 2011

You may have noticed...

0 min read

...that I haven't been around much lately. This has nothing to do with not writing anything, or anything being particularly WRONG, but more along the lines of I've been playing with previous material in new ways, and I didn't feel that was suitable to submit as deviations. As it stands, however, ~RainyDaySmile (https://www.deviantart.com/rainydaysmile) is coming to an end, I'm afraid. The only project I have going--A Long Winter's rewrite--will be pulled from the gallery shortly so that I can work on it on my own time, and eventually publish it in bigger, more carefully planned chunks. No, this isn't one of those dramatic "I'm leaving DeviantArt!" posts. The account will remain

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Mar 3, 2011

tumblr!

0 min read

so I have a tumblr now. chezdispenser.tumblr.com if I had my way about it my deviantart name would be ChezDispenser, too, but hey, I'll stick with what I got. The nice thing about my tumblr is its "upload audio" feature; I've got several recordings of my spoken word pieces up (like this http://chezdispenser.tumblr.com/post/3616874518/recording-of-the-previous-post). Also here's links to the newspapers I now write for: http://baconian.bacone.edu (my college paper) http://muskogeephoenix.com (the local paper and my paying job.)

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it's not often i plug MYSELF, but...

0 min read

my playwriting account ~grinning-tragedian (https://www.deviantart.com/grinning-tragedian) has a new play up. a short piece written for my playwriting class. go read plz?

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Profile Comments 202

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Happy birthday!

Maybe I could learn a thing or two from you, man.

I really like your work.

Hahah. I don't know, I tend to write like you, I think--just whatever shows up, y'know?

urbanknight1001

Indeed I do. ^^ It's the best way to write, in my opinion. Not to mention INCREDIBLY therapeutic. I feel like I'd be a sick and twisted little demonspawn were it not for this little hobby.

PursuingTheCerberus

Thank you so much for the FAVORITE. Means a lot man!