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Deviant for 12 Years
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Screen Shot 2013-10-22 at 10.08.39 PM by Satah Screen Shot 2013-10-22 at 10.08.39 PM :iconsatah:Satah 2 2 conflict resolution by Satah conflict resolution :iconsatah:Satah 9 2 autumn equinox by Satah autumn equinox :iconsatah:Satah 6 4
Literature
un/healthy
we are pooling our resources
lacerated pill packets litter the bare mattress
and assorted half-empty bottles have collected
ten different variations of the same disease
on their necks
deep, wet coughs
echo through the halls
and my hands twitch all morning
from the combinations i'm keeping up
just to maintain a wry-smiled "functioning"
no-one sleeps
and the temperature is never right
active ingredients and seasons change
but i'm not sure habits do
:iconSatah:Satah
:iconsatah:Satah 4 2
Literature
I FLICK MY CIGARETTES TOO OFTEN /
tonight i watched firey rot eat its way closer to my fingers
and tried to keep my hand steady
and to not breathe out of my nose
as i pressed my fingers against my lips
curious to see how long the ash could hold itself together
a dead thing
clinging to a dying thing
as it takes the life out of the rest
:iconSatah:Satah
:iconsatah:Satah 14 13
Literature
jul22 / a poem i would have written when i was 16
my shoulders hold an unabiding soreness
so thick and deep i am convinced
there are wings coiled inside them
waiting to push through the skin
waiting to unfurl weakly
and hang naked down my back
barely able to lift themselves
they won't molt or shed
but grow steadily until they fall out
completely
baby teeth
leaving wet holes
for stronger versions of themselves
to work their way out of
:iconSatah:Satah
:iconsatah:Satah 9 9
Literature
11/05/13
iv.
i am still ruled by compulsions of odds. as i near the end of my first round, i know that if i keep going, i have to complete a circuit of three. the uncorked wine in my living room pops into my mind, a fully-formed landscape of comfort and warmth, and i compel my ipod to make the decision for me: if the next song that comes up on shuffle is appropriate for stalking the streets at night, i will continue. it isn't. i reflexively hit next, and this one is. i keep walking. there was a time when i made these decisions myself and walked in silence, but i can't remember it.
iii.
tiny pieces of stone shine like remnants of car crashes and vandalism, and i know that i was once fearless in the sight of them. my soles have gone soft. it used to be that at the first hint of spring, i would set myself to Toughing Up My Feet, but i have become lax in my old age. even the discarded buds of trees glinting in the post-storm moonlight make me wary. there was a time that my fingers wou
:iconSatah:Satah
:iconsatah:Satah 7 10
Literature
(2009)
maybe i am just a rorschach test
abstract eyes
an inkblot of a mouth
something distorted and vague
a mess
you saw yourself in
:iconSatah:Satah
:iconsatah:Satah 11 6
Literature
the ugliest parts of me are not something you can
i do not want you
to lower your head
and flutter your eyelashes across my scars.
i do not want you to brush your lips over them
while whispering "pretty, pretty, pretty"
or apologising
like you are a mouthpiece for the world--
like the world did this to me.
i do not want you to cover them in compliments
so that you don't have to look straight at them.
there are monsters inside of me.
i do not want you to love them.
:iconSatah:Satah
:iconsatah:Satah 15 8
Literature
there was a hurricane this february
my muscles ache from holding myself
upright. every step is a flat foot on ice
and the radio above the cafe dish station says
spring is coming, but i will not believe it
until the streets become clean
like i am, right now: their blank shells cracked to reveal potential life
under months of old grime.
snowflakes become drops of water which splatter against the wall near the front door
, spelling out the same words i whisper
from behind a wet dog shake motion blur: "this city is a death trap." my bones sting from holding myself
up to the light. this bodies, like most bodies, is a new one
and i haven't memorised its shadow yet. melted precipitation drips over my ears
to say, "there is always fresh darkness to explore."
is it safer to walk down the middle of the road
where engine heat and friction have melted the seasonal threats
or to slide on the sidewalk? cars can stop;
gravity cannot. my ankle is so weak already.
every step is a tiptoe on frosty cement
and my body is so sore from holdin
:iconSatah:Satah
:iconsatah:Satah 12 10
GRODY by Satah GRODY :iconsatah:Satah 0 2
03:41
TALKING TO MY WEBCAM BC I CANNOT TALK TO YOU :iconsatah:Satah 7 10
Literature
park bench
imagining who you have replaced her with,
she is too aware of what her hands are doing—
of the impossibly perfect face she has conjured—
and her hair never does what she wants it to do.
she is too aware of what her hands are doing.
she's trying to make holding a cigarette look natural
and her hair never does what she wants it to do.
she pulls at it like a nervous child at their mother's hand.
she's trying to make holding a cigarette look natural,
just to annoy everyone who told her to quit.
she pulls at it like a nervous child at their mother's hand.
she waves away the clouds threatening to obstruct her vision.
just to annoy everyone who told her to quit
imagining who you have replaced her with,
she waves away the clouds threatening to obstruct her vision
of the impossibly perfect face she has conjured.
:iconSatah:Satah
:iconsatah:Satah 15 11
Literature
mix tape ii
boiling water hits the element, hisses, and disappears. this sound is the closest i've found to a song that can illustrate us. i always think i've warmed myself up enough to withstand you, but the moment we touch, i evaporate. i consider breaking out the microphone and giving you a burned disc containing an hour-long recording of me pouring a kettle onto the stove, but i'm not sure it would translate. the pot boils over and i close my eyes to listen.
:iconSatah:Satah
:iconsatah:Satah 8 2
Literature
if i only had no nerves
like dorothy emerging from oz, i am grasping the hands of friends at my bedside, gasping out feverish descriptors of my visions: "i've just had the strangest dream. you were dead. and you were dead, and you were dead, and you were dead." i am staring at the ceiling without blinking. i am creating excuses for idle conversation. i am discovering ways to put my fingers on pulse points and slipping mirrors in front of mouths when i am the last one awake.
i am finding myself in molly weasley. like dorothy emerging from oz, i am touching my caretakers' palms with my knuckles and mumbling over their soothing noises: "i've just had the strangest dream, and the strangest thing of all is that it's no longer strange to me." there is an empty tv cabinet in the corner of the living room and i envision a boggart sliding out of it and mimicking corpse after corpse.
souvenirs are piling up. every surface is full of tangible reminders of things that can die, just in case they do. i am attempting to pla
:iconSatah:Satah
:iconsatah:Satah 13 7
Literature
a prayer for nosy mourners
     bless the petty
     little
     grief tourists
     bless their attempts at hiding their excitement
     by hushing their voices
     bless their desire for scandal
     and the way they claim morbid curiousity
     because they cannot call it gossip
     because digging up dirt on the dead
     is too crass--
     after all,
     they are already dealing with so much of it
     bless all of those who want to know
     how he did it
     and please grant them the ability
     to lift the knowledge from me completely
     and then, dear lord, please bless
 
:iconSatah:Satah
:iconsatah:Satah 10 7

Random Favourites

Literature
beach ball
wording things inaccurately again
on the same stumbling block
on the same chipped alter
chopping block heave the axe
pump the shoulders
let it fall down
stumbling around the same crossed fingers
the same big bird saying "hello" "fuck off"
get a job no wait let things come to you
square those shoulders man
grind those teeth into dust
pound those dry chalkboard erasers
crouch in your chalk smear of a house
mumble of love but be quiet
your own breath blows yourself away
scribble long and wide round and square music
shrug your medium across your shoulders
shrug your stomach up into your chest
shrug your legs up into your arms
a little gray study of a road pads it's way up to you
wagging it's tail like a comet twisting in a void where stars should be
instead there's only dark and dark below you
a big beach ball comes out of the dark
and it rolls up against your chest
you grip at the plastic
with hands that have lost
all dimension
it only weighs ten fucking pounds
but you keep silent
you kee
:iconbrokenheartsbleeding:brokenheartsbleeding
:iconbrokenheartsbleeding:brokenheartsbleeding 1 0
Intoxicated by carriezona Intoxicated :iconcarriezona:carriezona 47 10 My babe. by Ellheartcore My babe. :iconellheartcore:Ellheartcore 5 1
Literature
Metaphors
We tried to find a metaphor for the zombies.
Emma said it would make things easier.
Then they ate her,
       but we thought maybe she had a point after all.
There were the old standards, of course,
The ones they'd made movies about when zombies were still a morbid fantasy
And not roaming our streets,
              smelling like cemeteries,
       gnawing on stray cats and the homeless
and causing a threat to public health.
The zombies were
              racial conflicts;
       a commentary on consumerism;
                            the dangers of hubris
        
:icontinroof:tinroof
:icontinroof:tinroof 13 10
At work by ruuca At work :iconruuca:ruuca 159 16 The Light Waltz by artisjustfrozenmusic The Light Waltz :iconartisjustfrozenmusic:artisjustfrozenmusic 7 4 Carousel by Shoulder-Devil Carousel :iconshoulder-devil:Shoulder-Devil 2 2 Graffitti by Shoulder-Devil Graffitti :iconshoulder-devil:Shoulder-Devil 8 18
Literature
Lust in letters
My favourite people
Are writers;
People who take
Words and craft
Art out of ink, lips, teeth, air and tongues
Maybe it could be envy-- I want
What I could be.
:iconShoulder-Devil:Shoulder-Devil
:iconshoulder-devil:Shoulder-Devil 2 1
We're all Mad Here. by Shoulder-Devil We're all Mad Here. :iconshoulder-devil:Shoulder-Devil 30 14 Problem-Solving by Shoulder-Devil Problem-Solving :iconshoulder-devil:Shoulder-Devil 7 5 Duality by sean-tron Duality :iconsean-tron:sean-tron 3 2
Literature
names
i'm all secondhand
smoke, names signed
x or o, untranslatable
jokes, signaling ghosts.
inhale:
my life.
i'm in the wrong room,
high off the fumes, all
lost in thought, insides
tied in knots.
what would you call me
if you didn't
know my name?
i'm angles and tangles and
stitched-together stars.
i'm falling and flying and
yelling at cars. i'm
patterns. i'm scattered.
i'm lost out in space,
this is me here, caught
in the orbit of saturn.
you don't like me and you
don't even know me.
i'm an asteroid, an
asterisk, astigmatic,
autophobic.
letters are dropping,
conversations stopping.
a kid shouts a question.
i'm running. i don't
look back.
:iconmissingnumbers:missingnumbers
:iconmissingnumbers:missingnumbers 2 2
Literature
we can work around it
so maybe you don't exist
-
but nobody's perfect.
:iconmissingnumbers:missingnumbers
:iconmissingnumbers:missingnumbers 4 10
Literature
River Fish
Here's a quick story about a river fish. It was the most unlike of all the fishes with a most extraordinary pelt. The birds would stare upon this fish and marvel that it deserved a finer sea. However, the fish could not survive in any other body of water, for elsewhere it would be ordinary. Being the most fair and fit, its influence earned it a place at the head, but then one day it wanted to move differently, and all its difference and rank could not move the rest. They were slave to the current, this was their god. The current belonged to them.
So she drifted to a different place as she wanted and found herself alone. She wished to cry, but they would only dissolve into the river. Besides, real fish don't cry. As you could guess, she stood out with her difference. That's when a bird swooped down and she relented. kill me, Sir, i love your wings.
:iconribcagerebel:ribcagerebel
:iconribcagerebel:ribcagerebel 3 6

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Satah's Profile Picture
Satah
satah(&then some)
Canada
i have exactly eight hundred and eighty-eight deviations in storage.
Interests
i have loved you all so dearly

if you want to check out the weird shitty places my creations go to, here is my """serious""" """""art""""" blog

if you just want to see what personal idiocy i'm getting up to, here is my tumblr

Comments


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:iconmissingnumbers:
missingnumbers Featured By Owner Jan 16, 2016  Student Writer
thanks for the favourites satah :heart: hope you're doing well
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(1 Reply)
:iconsuddenlyautumn:
SuddenlyAutumn Featured By Owner Jun 20, 2014
thank you for the favorite :heart:
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(1 Reply)
:iconformaniac:
formaniac Featured By Owner Dec 30, 2013  Student Writer
thanks for the fav~
Reply
(2 Replies)
:iconmissingnumbers:
missingnumbers Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2013  Student Writer
hi, just wanted to say that i love the digital art you've been posting on tumblr lately :) also, i featured you in my journal, i hope that's okay? <3
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconyouinventedme:
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Oct 14, 2013   Writer
thanks for the :+fav: on cannibal snowflakes
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(1 Reply)
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