DimefortheDevil

So...this is about it.

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I Was Here by DimefortheDevil, literature

Literature

I Was Here

Please don't forget me and all the things I've done. The change I've brought, and the decisions I've made, I wish they didn't fade so easily. Why is my existence of such minimal importance, while some people are remembered only for being born? Please don't forget me and all the tears I've cried. When I die, will my (struggles/victories/failures) be remembered by only my corpse? Or will she too forget? Celebrities say, "fame is more trouble than it's worth," but at least they're the ones who will be remembered, even if their embarassments are there with their success. Please don't forget me or the way

dark thoughts by DimefortheDevil, literature

Literature

dark thoughts

dark thoughts do not ususally take shape in my brain. maybe there is the occasional whisper of one of satan's curses in my anger, or a trail of evil smoke slithering around the corners of my cerebellum like a brain-stealing snake. for the most part though, my mind is overrun with naive unicorns. every once in a while there are dark, dangerous ideas that creep into my head like intruders, trying to destroy the heaven in my mind and burn it into oblivion, hell. now and then dark thoughts try to ruin every bit of innocence and purity held deep in the corners of my brain. i try to do my best to stop them, before they kill ea

light by DimefortheDevil, literature

Literature

light

at dawn it was the sun that woke you up each and every morning, but you'd turn on your side so you could remain laying in the dark and not face the light. at noon light would filter in through the black shade taped to the edges of your window. it would stream like rivers flowing into an ocean, and make pools on the carpetfibers of your midnight dark room. and you didn't want to see it, so you'd put a pillow over your face. at dinner you would leave the room to push food on your plate sidetosidetosidetoside and not take a bite, and meanwhile the sun would start to set and the light would start to f

That Deadly Illness Love by DimefortheDevil, literature

Literature

That Deadly Illness Love

"Love is an illness," he told me once. He kicked a rogue piece of gravel into the road, and watched its journey from one side of the street to the other. Even after it stopped tumbling over the concrete, he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the tiny pebble. Though I'm sure he meant it to be subtle, I could tell he was avoiding my gaze. Did he think if he looked at me I would burn him with the power of my retinas? It was long ago when he said this, but I still remember that summer day; the scene had practically been repeating in my mind since it occurred. "What makes you say that?" I was careful with my inflection, and had double che

Glance by DimefortheDevil, literature

Literature

Glance

Every single glance made a shooting, pins-and-needles sensation ignite up her spine, and the blonde hairs on the back of her neck would rise in anticipation. Every single glance from your ice cold irises, and your blackhole pupils, radiated a permanent sort of power; a certain sway in her each and every belief. Every single glance conveyed entire messages: boredom or anger, never humor, and rarely approval. She was quick to read the vague dialogue, written on your retinas and change her very attitude to match. Every single glance, was laced [like a sneaker] with condensed power over her.

Ogres and Pixies by DimefortheDevil, literature

Literature

Ogres and Pixies

entire heavens open up before my unseeing eyes. through shut lids i swear i can see oil-painted sunsets, entire oceans of mermaids, and forested valleys home to ogres and pixies both. in my imaginary world, fairytales never told come alive. campfire stories lost and forgotten are reworded. faeries whisper, next to my ear, the stories of their birth in childrens' voices, enchanting my thoughts and tickling my senses.

numbers by DimefortheDevil, literature

a shame by DimefortheDevil, literature

afterlife by DimefortheDevil, literature

baby by DimefortheDevil, literature

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That Deadly Illness Love by DimefortheDevil, literature

Literature

That Deadly Illness Love

Ogres and Pixies by DimefortheDevil, literature

Literature

Ogres and Pixies

numbers by DimefortheDevil, literature

a shame by DimefortheDevil, literature

afterlife by DimefortheDevil, literature

baby by DimefortheDevil, literature

his ashes by DimefortheDevil, literature

Literature

his ashes

she keeps his ashes in her kitchen cabinet, in a heavy urn that she holds sometimes. maybe it is her way of being close to him, still. she lives alone now that he's gone. the house feels too empty with only her there. she is withering away slowly without him. she's barely a fragment of who she was, now that he's gone. she has no reason to live, she says. he was her life, and without him (or his doctor appointments, or his medications, or his chemotherapy) she has nothing to do and no where to go. she sleeps more now and has less energy when she wakes,

not quite a bird by DimefortheDevil, literature

Checks and Balances by DimefortheDevil, literature

Literature

Checks and Balances

You weigh cold logic hand in hand with desire, never letting emotions best you, but pretending you don't care makes you a liar. You wear your facade on your sleeve stowing your armored heart inside. You don't like anyone to know it's there, so it never has to leave where you make it hide. You weigh each of your options thoroughly before you even consider abandoning pretense. To you, action comes second your thoughts first of consequence. Truthfully, I shook up your world, you considered me to be difficult and emotional. But for some reason, as indifferent as you are, you just couldn't resist my pull. Barely days into this new

Her Kind of Magic by DimefortheDevil, literature

Literature

Her Kind of Magic

There once was a girl; entire heavens sprang from her fingertips. If you asked nicely she would tell you what the very angels' singing sounded like. Her eyes, the brightest shades of silver, were the twin suns in this enchanted world that she dreamed. Her sky was vacant and dim in the day because her suns eclipsed each other and burned the brightest during the night. She explained once in a whisper, she needed some light to keep the monsters away while she slept. An entire day would go by before she blinked; she murmured once that she didn't want to miss anything. Only a fragment of a second to us could play o

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Fantasy by liviebug66, literature

Literature

Fantasy

As the tree branches sway to tap my window, I close my eyes and fantasize they are your knuckles instead, Gently knocking on the window to steal my attention, To wisk me away and tell me you love me. As I sit alone and face judgement of harsh eyes, I imagine those eyes belonged to you, Watching me affectionately, Expressing a love too passionate for words. As I walk through the crowded room and my hand is brushed by a stranger, I dream it was no stranger at all, That you would wrap your strong hands around mine gently, Causing all worries to vanish, as I know I will be safe with you. As I see her in your arms, I pray somed

Marigolds by fadingreverie, literature

Literature

Marigolds

I. She braved the marigold patch once a week a decision all claimed was wise You're lost this will set things straight he will be your guide II. There was a narrow path less marigolds grew there the apartment awaited at the end of the path its owner grew to be a friend Over lemonade they discussed possibilities new beginnings how lovely how wonderful it is to trust each other as friends (except deeper) as equals (except closer) against the backdrop of such a chaotic world III. Some weeks later blinded by the harsh sun she dared not look down a hand skimmed her thigh On her way home the marigolds burned h

on marrying medusa by towards-eternity, literature

Literature

on marrying medusa

so she told me, hair water- falling down over her ship's deck shoulders, that she would like to be with me: we could write stories, said she. i reached out: empty air; the ground splitting beneath me into warring factions and i had been standing on the 17th parallel for too many years now, as the pressure escalated up, up, and away – "you won't be happy, with me," (her stainless steel nails dig deep into my serotonin skin as she takes her place beside me, distracts me from the fall) – "no, you won't be happy," she assures me, "but then, again, you ne

The Artist by liviebug66, literature

Literature

The Artist

Down it falls. Every second spent--wasted. Each speck of respect and trust will collapse... I proceed to find the process of destruction amazing. How composure is continuous, strenuous. But how incredibly expeditious the universe can be in the process of demolition. But in that split second where you watch it crash, You relive each moment, reconvene with each partner, And feel as if your very essence could have been captured through your composition. It would be a lie if said that possessions are meaningless. Within what we create is ourselves. What makes an artist is the ability to take the debris in which hope is lost, And

Morning Afterthoughts by MidnightSun16, literature

Literature

Morning Afterthoughts

Your voice echoes through my mind Just as the sun whispers, "to rise", And I'm left wondering why did It all have to be dream. For the moments when I sleep Are full of memories, fantasies and in-betweens, Where I'm not sure if you are real or not Because you seem too beautiful to be. I don't know why you can't see it, But one day, I hope you'll realize how Jealous the stars are of your glow, your strength And the brightness of your passionate heart. Yet, I also know that actions speak much louder Than words, which is why on that same day, I'll show you what happens whenever you smile, What happens when your dark eyes gleam

Deviation Spotlight

Her Kind of Magic by DimefortheDevil, literature

Literature

Her Kind of Magic

DimefortheDevil

About DimefortheDevil

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

United States
Deviant for 13 years
She / Her

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My Bio

I am the epitome of sarcastic, though you would never think that based off of first impressions. I always laugh when someone’s trying to be serious with me. I am a huge fan of Florence + the Machine. I get unreasonably excited with the small things in life, like warm towels and thunderstorms. I am the laziest person I know with the biggest ambitions. I can't stop talking when I'm with my friends, but I'm all too quiet with people I don't know well. I have a horrible poker face though not for lack of trying. I love thunderstorms when I'm trying to sleep and hate weather above 75 degrees. I act more intelligent than I think I am. I cry when I read sad books, or watch sad movies, but when something horrible happens in real life, I don't care nearly enough. I am a closet Naruto fan, though I'm hating all the fillers in Shippuden. I am a master at faking a smile even if I'd rather be frowning. I am part of the minority of high schoolers who love to learn. I'm one of those (read: crazy) people who believe there's a reason everything happens, and it'll all work out in the end. I'm just Maria.

Favourite Movies

Anchorman; basically anything featuring Will Ferrel

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Florence + the Machine; Lana Del Rey; Macklemore & Ryan Lewis

Favourite Books

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

Favourite Games

Monopoly

Other Interests

Sleeping... and yeah, that's about it.

Posts

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DimefortheDevil

Jan 17, 2013

Epiphanies

0 min read

When I first joined DeviantART, I wanted to rule it. I joined as many groups as I could, and submitted work as fast as I could write, on the minuscule chance that I could gain internet fame. During my first few months on the site, I would check dA twice a day and spend hours writing/reading/exploring. I used to be so, so excited to find inspiration on here, and see all the beautiful work posted around me. Now, this is the first time I've checked my account in months. Maybe you can say that I've fallen out of love with the site, and to an extent, writing. Often, I think of myself as one of those commitment phobic men afraid to stay in a relati

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DimefortheDevil

May 7, 2012

My Search for Inspiration

0 min read

So, if you haven't noticed I've gone from posting a new poem every day a few months ago, to relatively no submissions now. I haven't been inspired lately: to write poetry, to write literature, to write anything really. It could be writer's block, teen angst, or just plain failure. I haven't ruled anything out yet. On the brighter side: high school is out in under a month, which means that I have eight more hours a day to stare into my computer screen! If I can't find inspiration there, well, all hope is lost. I'm already feeling the effects of my impending summer vacation. Just last night, I was furiously typing half-meaningful poetry into

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DimefortheDevil

Dec 18, 2011

Mass Edits On the Way

0 min read

I haven't been in the mood to write poetry in a while, which is unfortunate. I read through all the reminders I get for Christmas/Winter prompts and think "If only I was in the mood to write...", which makes me feel like a failure. To feel more productive, I'm going to mass revise my Gallery! Basically, this translates to me deleting all of my worse poems (probably a loss of about 15 pieces) and editting all the rest. If the edits are major enough, I'll alert all my watchers, so just a heads up. Also, I have a few poems 3/4 of the way completed saved onto my Gmail account/as scraps/on other websites/in my notebook. I'll most likely make an e