CyclonaOrin

Zev Vengeance

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Gone by CyclonaOrin, literature

Literature

Gone

This perfect dream unraveled in my hands. These shards still trembling inside my gut. I tried, so hard, to attain what I thought I deserved. Only to be shaken and thrown off my path. It's not so easy, to find the simplest thing. This world thrown to chaos and kaleidoscopic delusions. A scream sent out amongst a thousand whispers lost. Dozens of nightmares full of terrors unequaled to this loss. Fallen, once more, back within this bleak apathy of myself. To live alone.. To die already unknown... To ride my plunging thunderclaps of torment down into this hell I've created. To be gone until I'm forgotten.

I'm Waiting by CyclonaOrin, literature

Overdose by CyclonaOrin, literature

Literature

Overdose

I can't breath without you Asphyxiate on screams. Trade in my sorrows for desires. And the silence for euphoric dreams. One more day with your grace. Would never quench my need. The shadows of sweet memories still breathing, Hold tightly to my mind unfreed. Every other thought echos your name. Every other heartbeat resonates dead. Hallow cries that stir and shiver. The crawling of my skin will always spread. Vague resemblance of a sense of peace. More empty than when I could still construe. My breathe gone still in indulgence of such bleakness. While I clutch this sweet release from my overdose on you.

Log On by CyclonaOrin, literature

Literature

Log On

Tied and shrieking in this winding imprisonment. Soaked with blood and drenched in dreams. Requests and demands not of my own. Staked to the ceiling and getting higher. This everlasting nightmare of repetition. Photocopied reality on recycled flesh. Xerox my expression of blank and bleak. With a post-it to remind me of how dead I am. Refill my soul with ink and tears. Fax out a sigh and a cry for release. Enslaved and bound with a cord around my neck. Plugged into a world I can never log out of.

Kingdom by CyclonaOrin, literature

Literature

Kingdom

Misplaced amongst the room of gods. Men of bronze and brass and steel. With their might of a thousand storms. And their wraith darker than the deepest nights. As delicate as silk and fragile like glass. Soft whispering voice floating gentle and serene. A porcelain kiss as cold as the winter. But the spirit of fires burning passed hell's fury. I can fight with them all and bleed as they do. With the resilience of a madman but grace of a woman. No doubt can deny me, no assumption dare place me. I've ascended to the level of queen in the kingdom of men.

Pretending by CyclonaOrin, literature

Literature

Pretending

Hailing tears, so silent and serene Roaring stillness engulfing with a brutal embrace Cold chains of my own fear bound tighter than the grasp of death. Locked within a prism of invisible denial. Shake it off, pretending it's not real. Each day I die a little with a painted smile gracing my lips. Twisting violently within me rages the pains of obstruction. Shake it off, push it back, it's not going to show. Tomorrow looks bleaker than a dead end sentence. Facing the horrors of happiness and wishful dreamers. Amongst them all I ghost away into the facade of nonexistence. A porcelain smile tinted with unreal rejection. Just pretend i

Slow by CyclonaOrin, literature

Literature

Slow

I feel like I always do. Neither bad nor good. Stop asking if I'm okay. Stop trying to help me. Not everyone wakes up cheery. Wearing a smile made of light. Dancing their way through the day. Gliding into the night. But we don't all want to wake up bleak. With a cloud hanging low overhead. Ghosting halfway through till noon. Then errupting into rage. Some of us float in the inbetween. Feeling okay and fine with that. Content in just another day going by. With a steady pace and quiet beat. We aren't mooping or trying to get attention. This is our every day face. Feeling good in being alive. But not spraying the world with jo

Labels by CyclonaOrin, literature

Moving by CyclonaOrin, literature

Fall: Two by CyclonaOrin, literature

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Ruby Red by CyclonaOrin, visual art

Ruby Red

CyclonaOrin

About CyclonaOrin

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United Kingdom
Deviant for 17 years
She / Her

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My Bio

Current Residence: UK
Favourite genre of music: Metal
Operating System: Win7
MP3 player of choice: Samsung S5
Skin of choice: Your's.
Favourite cartoon character: Gir
Personal Quote: "Told ya I was right..."

Favourite Movies

Couldn't pick just one.

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Scar Symmetry

Favourite Gaming Platform

PC or Xbox 360

Tools of the Trade

Everything.

Other Interests

Whatever keeps me busy.

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CyclonaOrin

Jan 5, 2008

Vacation's over, get back to work!

0 min read

Well, it's finally time for me to get back to what I love doing, which is pretty much whatever it takes to release the creative juices. My new camera needs a good breaking in, I've got tons of empty notebooks, and an assload of art supplies gathering dust. And with all the new things going on it's time to use it as my muse. I'll be taking a week long photo shooting spree of anything and everything in hopes of getting SOMETHING decent, and possibly even kicking my writer's block in the face a few times. It needs to get the fuck off my back so I can get some new shit out this year! We'll see what I get out of this....

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CyclonaOrin

Oct 1, 2007

A sad day...

0 min read

Well it looks like I'll be temporarily taking a break from photography. Not by my own choice however, but because I've lost my camera. It almost feels like part of me is gone now. How odd I became so attached to it, even though I never thought I was that great in the first place. I posted a few of the last pictures I got to take with it of my road trip to Ohio, though sadly I didn't get as many as I had planned, the few I did get came out fairly decent. As soon as I scrape up enough money to get a new one I'll be back at taking shots of any and everything, but until then I'll be vacationing and coming up with new ideas for future shots. Until

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CyclonaOrin

Aug 24, 2007

Son of a bitch.

0 min read

I FUCKING HATE THIS WRITER'S BLOCK!! Goddamnit, this is annoying. I know my work wasn't all that great as is but now I can't even produce a single fucking sentence without it turning to shit. Writing is my form of therapy, so when I can't all this shit just builds and builds and fucking builds to the point where I can't fucking release it and it drives me insane! Yeah I'm pissed... It's so frustrating. Well, at least now I'm trying other forms of art to let go of this tension, and it's somewhat working. But I'm in dire need of getting back to my main form of expression before I loose the ability all together. Or stab someone in the eye with m