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About Literature / Professional Official Beta Tester BrendanMale/United States Groups :iconnew-latitudes: New-Latitudes
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Newest Deviations

True West
I found you
at true west,
your hair tucked back
beneath your collar.
I had strong hands -
lean fingers
that splayed their mirth
across your collar bone.
I could almost wear you
inside out
like shearling,
a small animal
warm and curling
underneath the forest floor.
I am always late you said,
pulling out a cigarette
like you expected
an answer;
but all I could do
was stare out
at the sun
chewing my lip
and wondering
if you remembered
my name.
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 35 17
He left her
to clean up his mess
again -
laundry that never saw
the light of day
and those strange stains
inside the kitchen sink-
coffee, or maybe last Tuesday's dinner.
The kitchen floor
looked hungry
and angry
in the morning light,
a thin sheen of sweat
bubbling up the floorboards
and the cat's bowl
wanted filling once again.
She dusted other women
off the bed frame
and guessed whose red hair
flamed against the mirror
and wondered why
they never hung
their dresses up.
She sorted out his socks
searching for the mates
and left the bedroom drapes
soaking in the sink.
Men are messy children -
no pride in hearth or home.
And mothers
are just avenging angels.
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 43 31
I almost caught you waiting for a sign -
a token under his knapsack
a traffic light beating the sky
You mistook him for beauty
ethereal waste
and the worn out shock
of his questions
filling your head to the brim
and hiding in the corners
What do you see in him
empty houses
with gaping doors
and the harsh gag
of September sun
crouching down in the pipes
waiting to explode
He fought the good fight
you said
brazen as a lizard
and thrashing
fluid filling the space between you
like a leviathan
Where your insides
felt safe from the crowd
and night's shade
grew such long disturbing shadows
and I never knew
we existed.
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 43 11
Still Waiting
Godot never came
did he?
Maybe he took the wrong train
or got waylaid at a bar -
enraptured by the perfume
kissing the throats of housewives
let out on holiday.
Perhaps the map was wrong
and that neat red line
you believed was gospel
really took him to Kathmandu
or one of those places
you swore you'd visit
when you grew up.
Maybe he got on a plane instead -
something with a number
headed to Detroit
and crashed over the Andes
where no one was saved
except the fuselage.
So you are still waiting,
waiting for his hand
to turn your other cheek,
waiting for a sign
that he still lives nearby
and just forgot
to be a comet
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 42 23
Careless Magic
I am not one for careless magic.
I like things
when they disappear
or hide themselves up the sleeves
of your coat.
I like the cards you put in piles,
the way the paper quivers
as I poke at them when you are not looking.
I like the tiny balls and marbles
the agate eyes of cats
and birds you juggle with
a nimble smile
as if asking me to count them
or try and steal them back.
I like the colors of the scarves that lead
to nowhere
the flagrant red silk squares and yellow
cloths - flags of summer
parading through the yard.
You pluck rabbits from my hat,
from the collar of my shirt -
and peel back the white pelts,
pink skin slick and trembling
with your sleight of hand
pressing against my lips.
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 50 24
She did not know
how long it had been ten o'clock -
ever since last week
when the neighbors
refused to stand
on the porch
knocking on the door any longer.
They just want to come in
and look at things
her brother said
and to maybe steal
gram's silver locket
or those maps
dad kept at the bottom
of his dresser.
They want to stare
at gram in her coffin
and guess how much it cost
and who picked out her dress.
And then they will see
there is nothing in the kitchen
but canned beans and radishes.
So they will go home
and cook lamb stew
and soup with spelt and marrow.
They will notice
you have not washed your hair,
that the pits of your shirt
are stained
and your hem drags
below your knees;
that the dogs have left
and the water
has been shut off.
Then they will want
to pack us off to total strangers
who change the syllables
in our names to something new
and we will go to school
every day,
our socks pulled up and clean
and church every Sunday
where we wil sit
with hands folded
and tell them how
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 30 23
Devil's Bay - Virgin Gorda, BVIs by Poetrymann Devil's Bay - Virgin Gorda, BVIs :iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 40 7
So, I'm lost again in Bohemia
with my French cuffs
              still dragging
                   through the wine;
but they say my slippers
                        are quite elegant,
a statement in
            Italian leather
(or a letter from my lover)
and I smoke a gold tipped
   a duchess
            or a greedy centipede -
my hands all gesturing at
sucking conversation from the thieves and courtesans
in my bed.
I was once a painting -
something borrowed from Gainsborough
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 89 40
Window View by Poetrymann Window View :iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 32 9 Bar Scene by Poetrymann Bar Scene :iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 25 2 Sunset Sail by Poetrymann Sunset Sail :iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 76 19
They die too loudly here -
a barking, trumpeting sound
that keeps everyone else
Some say it is the salt
in the water
tickling through the IV
or the televisions or microwaves
talking in each room.
I can hear the hum of metal
each time the nurse
shifts her skirt
or leans over
to tie her shoes.
They come too close
to us,
afraid of camoflauge
of the smell of orange
and then pretend
they did not mean it.
Lunch is biscuits
and rice pudding or
green jello in a styrofoam cup
and a straw
puncturing a carton of milk.
At night we play cards -
spades or hearts
or dominoes with tiles
someone's uncle left behind
or forgot to put away.
And we will sleep
at some point,
some urgent need
to avoid pollution -
a small white pill
hidden under our tongues
for good luck
As we toss under
little fevers
and damp blankets,
pretending the corridors
will keep their distance.
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 58 43
My tongue swells like a gallows
and sticks to the roof of
my mouth each time I say deliverance.
The doctor says it is only
temporary and that I will
get over it in time.
Some mornings I wake up as a
poet - a random man of bones
and meat, clattering down the
sidewalks, hardly breathing
and afraid to move too quickly.
Once I fried an egg on the battery
of my car because I wanted to
see the summer heat rise up
like angels and tangle in the
power lines, knowing I am God's annointed.
The nurse says it's ridiculous,
that I should know better
that morphine will not kill me
and I can still step on cracks
without the world slipping through
but I won't get caught like last time
because crucifixion is a bitch
and I have nothing left
inside my pockets
for you to taste.
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 83 32
The lovely violence
of your words -
desperate feedback
where I sit on the train
wondering why this city
rolls its streets in
so early.
You were innocent -
except for that sigh
that swung between your hips;
and I swear I
never saw it coming -
blank verse and vowels
left trembling
and all your gods
come out to play.
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 76 13
Let the stars make their protest;
let them trip us
roughshod and unkempt -
is at our side tonight,
and the dust from long ago
settles on this side
of heaven.
The air is spangled here -
it rests upon us
in a silver tallith
unravelling across the vaulted
sky and lingers where
our fingers clasp.
We have lost the moon,
that wanton keeper of lies
and wishes
only virgins make in summer;
and night,  
that naked warrior,
blushes in this unkempt heat
and holds our senses
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 80 22
I find you unfolding
where the sky meets noon
and all the flowers
bloom -
vivid and indiscreet
like ladies who drink too much wine
at lunch
and blush when waiters
curl their names
perfect and lonely
like birds on the wire...
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 53 23

Random Favourites

Black Violet by FrostAlexis Black Violet :iconfrostalexis:FrostAlexis 74 79
Dreams of Starfish
I will inhabit a dreaming starfish
and without senses
conjure a world of spirit
I think a starfish best
would know where heaven stands
I will extend my pentacle arms
and feel like a compass
where the final magnet guides me:
to infinite metal gates and a core
of molten platinum
brighter than light
I think my spirit flies without
vision scent and sound
and only knows to drift
towards sun-like warmth
of bursting radiance
I will abandon my human
and drift in pulsing echoes
through nothingness
I think I've found my home
amidst waves that
Surge over me
in gentle nuzzles
and warm hugs,
that wrap me
like mother's blankets
and father's arms
:iconcaerulex:caerulex 10 8
Commander by Lilyas Commander :iconlilyas:Lilyas 418 30 PREMIUM background - Summer meadow (4) by Euselia PREMIUM background - Summer meadow (4) :iconeuselia:Euselia 5 0
Prompts what is this I don't even
So, I heard you're doing NaPoWriMo and you like prompts.
I can work with that.
Let's play a little game, then. To start, get three d12 (twelve-sided dice) - don't have any, or too lazy to get out of your chair? Lo and behold, an online dice roller:It's dangerous to go alone, take this!
Or, you know...
Alright, assuming you have your dice now.
You sure you're ready?
No going back.
Ok, let's roll. Literally, roll your dice. Got three numbers? Good.
Below there's three tables. Just take your three results and look their numbers up in the tables.
So if you rolled a 3, a 9, and 5, you'd look at table 1, entry 3; table 2, entry 9; and table 3, entry 5. Easy as that.
You should (really, it's not that hard. I think you can do this.) get a subject-y thing, a descriptor, and either an image or a pretty short poem. There's your prompt. Off ya go.
1. A stroll
2. A sunset
3. My t
:iconarthurthebraveone:ArthurTheBraveOne 3 11
This color permeating within clouds the senses
And I try to ignore, while I can’t help but attempt to identify
Is it the tips of the fingers that I see tapping against a cheek
With that subtle invitation dancing behind her eyes
Or perhaps those painted lips, pursed in that barely contained smile
Looking all cherry red, but tasting of the fires of heaven
We break apart and lock eyes, staring inside each other for moments
And that slight apple blush crosses your cheeks as the smile is no longer trapped
It could be that strawberry flip of your hair
Uncovering the silky skin of your neck
Or maybe it is that the satiny red traversing over your shoulder
That glimpse carefully orchestrated for my eyes
And almost as smooth across my lips as your own were
Is it the valentine red of my heart
Beating to escape my chest
Trying in vain to find its way into yours
Or could it be the stain of blood
As each drop slowly falls inside of me
From this newest laceration
Maybe it’s
:iconzolt1212:zolt1212 4 6
Sweet Temptations by xeena-dragonkizz Sweet Temptations :iconxeena-dragonkizz:xeena-dragonkizz 55 36 Les Paons by MySweetDarkness Les Paons :iconmysweetdarkness:MySweetDarkness 285 141 Stalking Doom - Advanced by boc0 Stalking Doom - Advanced :iconboc0:boc0 205 11 Mandala 26 Color Embossed by crimsonvermillion Mandala 26 Color Embossed :iconcrimsonvermillion:crimsonvermillion 2 0
You are the moon, 
Not only because you weep like her, 
But you are so bright, 
Can you see it? 
You gave me the stars, they fell from your fingers, 
And I catch them, 
(One, Two, )
In my mouth 
Your heart is a silver orb, it shines through you, 
But, like the moon, 
You have a side so dark, untouched , 
Not even the stars have seen it 
(if I am the space princess, will you be all of my planets?) 
:iconxxflamefrost101xx:XxFlameFrost101xX 5 0
The curve of a spine
encased in smooth, pale skin.
The way the lips twitch
when teasing at a smile.
The merging of ankle
into the bones of the foot.
And the slight turn of the head
when I am near all speak
that you are here.
:iconelianoretta:elianoretta 3 1
Hell gate guardian by Sweetlylou Hell gate guardian :iconsweetlylou:Sweetlylou 155 128
Loving A God
No mortal man should run with gods
You can't keep pace with their walk
Never play on the same field
Always stand in their shadow
Mortals should stay away from gods
But i fell for one
Loving a god is easy
Staying in love and trusting that god?
Is harder in practice than thought
By night is the easiest
Seeing that big heart
And soft soul
Hidden behind the deep eyes
You get lost in the soul
Time is lost but at no cost
Any pain makes the love worthy
Pulled out of the darkness into the light
A love like no other from before
Magical, mysterious and unknown
Belief and hope keeps pushing you on
Forgetting all the materials
And loving the mortal man
Behind the godly mask.
:icondal22-creations:DAL22-Creations 4 5
The last quiet place by ElenaDudina The last quiet place :iconelenadudina:ElenaDudina 3,741 430
I wonder...
Why I have these gifts...
Communication with the deceased...
Feeling them...
Feeling their presence...
Being able to talk to them...
And them to me...
I wonder...
How did I get so blessed? :heart:
:iconpossumfan:PossumFan 2 0



Made with pride by the DeviantArt community BROWSE ALL ART


Journal Entry: Sat Aug 5, 2017, 3:16 PM
Souls of BirdsLook, all of us have souls of birds
but cling to cage bars anyway
as if they were most precious things.
Pure force you'd need to pry us loose
from gutters, flagpoles,
and sometimes even billboard frames.
At night we feel the pull of earth
and flap the wings
we clipped ourselves.
When in the morning sky blue dawns,
the chance so near to flee for good,
the price for flying is too dear.
Under FleshWhat's got under your skin?
Are those thorns spreading in and out your veins
Draining you of life once again?
Coagulation symphony
And a chrysalis ruptures to icy strain
Of violins weeping a poem inked upon skin.
But what lies beneath is a delta of sin
Who knows what we hide away in plain sight
Born into secret,
Begging to see one glimpse of light.
I never sit down for breakfastpull a scare from whiskey tea,
tear-filled eyes darting cup to cup
with not a drop wasted
black bacon fried in butterfat, spackled on
and splattered from pan to shirt;
inert eggs twinned in plain white, tinfoil wrapped
tongue vast and full of surface
hardly worth it to reverse this rendered purpose,
to reconnect the wired tangle of this mess
of misdirected hurt;
since she left, what little isn't work
is worthless
Lakeside ZejelAlongside the morning sun, the pale moon still glows
And I rise, listening t the stream as it flows
As it sings in harmony with the verdant forest boughs
Rising to my feet, for a moment I stand still
Listening as a zephyr dances where it will
Standing awestruck by the spring's vast poetic skill
And songbirds sing as each flower begins to grow
As the light mist vanishes from the lake
The sorrow deep within my soul I try to shake
But the ripples in the water soothe my heartache
And for the briefest of moments, God's mercy shows
FaithlessMy love, my love
we for many days have loved,
become familiar without end
walked with sunshine in our smiles
kept warmth alive and well between us
even in the chilling hinterlands of night.
I've watched moon-blood trickle-out
sometimes black and empty-handed
others red and e'en with child,
brought you bread, fruit, tomato soup
spooned-in healing elementals
wiped spew, tears and fear away
kept guard over reputation
washed dirty dishes as you slept,
roaming free in dreams' domain.
Was I ever there amongst them
did you see me watching there,
waiting in the seams of clouds
hiding in the sway of barley fields
as you, in childhood, played?
I looked-on, smiled and turned away
as your father held you once again,
so long have all these small perfections
resided silent in my midst
and now we stems of daisy-chains
we, the most devout of constant lovers
must with trembling voices reconcile
an ending of our promises.
Hasty words are often issued with conviction
yet the slow-acquired sounds of hope

Hey  guys, look  what I've found! by Black-B-o-x Andrei by Pakoune Dark Town by annewipf Doppleganger by maiarcita Broken by BenjaminHaley
give us our history, give back our deadWho writes our eulogy?
The victorious
Ah, their enemy, we
Our survival a declaration
our existence a battle field
only victory in obliteration, overkill
We have names
champions blind themselves to them
all our skin can be branded
Criminal, corruptor, sinner, sick
Write your timeline truth
Stain us with your god, your perceptions
mutilate us from our great
If useful enough
This war is not a war we fought
But an eradication
To bear
How we long to bring the bodies home
Give us our history, give us our dead
To history goes the victor
We’ve learned
In our black veils, mourning clothes
Prism light we scatter joyously
To history goes the victor
fight back
send him off at the airport
does he look back at me? i'm sure he does, i
must've not stared hard enough
he thinks i'll wait for him back home. i do.
he comes back, he didn't miss me.
i steel my heart,
but it keeps melting.
i have to go, i'm disappearing.
i ask him for help getting to the attic.
i forgot where it was.
i find my suitcase,
empty, but tattered
inside i place
shards of unwashed dishes
and the wrapping paper he sent along
with my birthday present,
back when we still believed in us
my fingers bleed out, so does the case
would i rather lose the baggage?
or keep quiet, drag it out, leave
another day
iv. i chose the latter, but does it matter?
i wonder if it's just been
all along
this flight is too long.
i miss the feeling of my feet on the earth
grounded by him,
no, that doesn't rhyme.
i miss the feeling of my feet on the earth,
warming his hands by the hearth,
i miss waiting for him to come home,
even if it was just me all alone.
what am i even doing?
i don't ev
The Billion Hearts' BattalionWeapons fired, aimed exclusively at eye's sockets and ear-holes
To reach the heart, to stop it not from beating,
To forge another silvery chain around and adorn your neck with jeweled shackles,
Forty-thousand pages shot out from a loose-leaf cannon,
In daring attempt at resistant conviction, desperate and forlorn,
Oppression, the true result, hidden behind safety, they discovered,
Oppression in themselves, oppression from each other, oppression from the authorities,
They ran away from the shepherd in the countryside, white, green, and blue,
into crowded stench-filled facilities
kept and not butchered unless finished with productivity
TOUCHED UPAngel pendant, clipped my wings
Mosses into me, a tablet dispenser
Devolution God and a chemical habit
Drug store bandit, crash car and the get away
Tare down the sky
Disbanded, heaven in a waste land
Exacerbated, grief and the gifted
Lady heroine, bible school of the sainted and the forsaken
Holy night housed of the holy
Lady bug on my windshield,
clay statues line the streets on the road to saint peter's
Three wishes, close your eye's blow out the candle's
Past lives
War, on the back streets, chapels of prayer
Stable hand in the ghetto's of slum
Hallelujah and the second coming
Come down, commune of the third kind
New born lover and a religious score card
Till death do us part, nothing lasts forever
Bullet holes in my day dream
Emptied out , holding onto you
Corpse lover of a lifeless bride
Bring out the dead
Universal fire, the world burns brighter tonight
Judgment day raise the dead
Homelights Lowmy resistance breathes
an emissive and
relatively constant warm
against the voltage
of your supply
a kind current, soft enough
to resemble alive
to welcome home
the sway of your hertz
in waves and spaces i frequent
and your exhaust
is quiet, like mine
homelights low
like away, but
not on vacation
we're electric in blankets bunched
in pillows fallen,
in the scent of summer dust
burnt invisibly aloft
in the orange of autumn's coil

Genesis - Close Up by adoreluna Butterflys by BungEye Truck Art by InayatShah The Vow of the Sword by Euselia Snowy owl by KlaraDrielle
misteryou won't let me sleep
then your serum misfires
a nightfall short of contraceptives
we're sinning, you say, we're sinning -
but mister, i don't share your god
here's the narrative:
a man-boy implores coitus,
makes a mess,
rummages for his underwear
scampers out the door
© 03.August.2017 :house:
The Process of Scar FormationThe truth behind a scar
is the apotheosis of lack.
There is nothing left to copy
on account of not enough,
an empty essence personified
by unspeakable distance.
But out of pain comes creation,
the breath of something new
and undefined.
Something harder gives rise
to close the gaps.
I will repair,
but moreover
I will chrysalise
as I do.
a good startwe could be one of those desolate things
that hum sometimes. our sense of purpose
gets muddled by unlit Christmas lights
that live like fireflies smiling
with their mouths wide open.
our sex translates into an old film, flickering -
some single, fluid motion lost like sugar
on linoleum. our mornings are a ghost story
that's revealed in the shadow of a lampshade
and it sounds better with a glass in hand.
most days, it is going forward that saves us.
we pretend carnage is a tattoo that can be rubbed off,
that we're the type to let a rain gutter stay
after the house is gone. we know that looking
means all we remember will stare back
so we take the other's hand.
How Squirrels Did Cursive For HalloweenOh cursive come
from clouds scratching
out squirrels, to
husk nuts,
to find the
very likes of
Johnny Appleseed,
It won the speeches of
the lighting
of gowns,
It brought
fragrance to the
sound of both
the voices of life
& the voices
found in dreams,
by the
time the wind's
curled to fetch
for it's leaves, there
marvels a ghost,
& Here comes Halloween
day onecannot draw
those spine shards
from the wound,
cannot peal
in purehearted
there may be weights
that my anchors can take
but my dearest goddess,
permit me doom.
gaze if you must
or the courage will falter.
gaze on the dust
that you leave my will
to become.
i haven't one
more flareup,
cannot win
a fight with
my own flame.
don't you dare speak
any gentler, love.
keep your tongue
far from the vise
of biting.
if you want more
than my damages,
i count you

The Medieval Town by SummerDreams-Art Moody. Beaucaire. France by jennystokes 'Come In, My Child!' by SummerDreams-Art Post Apocalypse Children by annewipf Background 23 by ElenaDudina
Trojan Refrain: A 3-Way CollaborationI.
Hey, wassup my Agamemnon
how does the looting go?
Have the lobbyists settled on
a puppet for the show
when you're the Hellespont police?
How about Helen of Greece?
Fair like Justice
fair like Justice
and δημοκρατία and Peace?
Hey, wassup my Agamemnon?
Does the dear daughter know
Your aircraft-carriers won't run
Without some bloodflow?
"Can bank accounts become obese
Feeding like grubs off her decease?"!
Can bank accounts
Can bank accounts
Make oil-gorged Θέμις grin at vice?
hey, wassup my Agamemnon?
was your death a surprise?
did you sense that dark pall anon?
did you fail to surmise
it was all greek, your cuckold's fate,
that left you on Charon to wait?
it was all greek,
it was all greek,
when you and Ὀδυσσεύς did prate.
I can't be your loverin fantasies bright and dark, I park my senses
on the very edge of what you inspire in me.
deep, plutonic desire to share an immolation
a fictional friction between bodies and spirits.
I dream in lucid arrogance of the dance you dance
with your lover tonight, lingering in the shadows
like a metaphysical incubus, my words weaving
frail and fierce fires in your mind and thighs
such that for a flickering moment, an instant,
or even later, as you sleep. it is my touch.
my hands.  my lips.  my tongue.  pleasuring you.
measuring you as a muse of lambent incandescence.
I cannot be your lover.  but I want to be your hero
so that, when the facade of proprietary and taken vows
splinters with a moments weakness, you feel me
inside you.  and you are unashamed. and I am yours.
my devils at levels you would scarcely admit to yourself.
but you feel this and seal this with darkened kisses.
William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
The Tip of an Iceberg     The snow seemed over for the season. The Rockies were warmer, and, at the commune, the Red Rockers enjoyed the weather. I was in my little camper trailer with my daughter, the door and windows open to the big, beautiful view. We could hear the truck and the car come up the road to the second meadow, and we both watched the road to see who it was. Nancy was working in her garden and she stood up to see, too.
     A new truck and a splendid car arrived, and I was dismayed. Who had vehicles like that if not the rich guy? Sure enough, they were driven by the two local cowboys who took care of the rich guy's ranch a few miles away. Jorge and Smithy were the cowboys' names. They parked and walked up to my trailer. I thought of running, but there was nowhere to go. At least McMillions wasn't with them.
     Smithy spoke first. "Hi, LJ. Don wants you to have this car for a while..."
ghost-riding in a cabriothe streets of a darkened city  
businesses closed  windows black reflective  
images of ourselves in cars  passing slowly  
or locked in a late night grid  
out looking for clubs and parties  
streetlights and headlights hit our faces  
we look back at ourselves in windowglass  
my hair stands up  
just exactly so  
the way I want it to
the style  so current in this our day  
how long how long o gods of fashion  
will this be our lives  
me and my pals  
my buddies  
my lovers  
how long will we be the current thing?  
are we even real?
ghost-riding in a cabrio by Lancelot Price 2017 July 29/30
PersonaEnchanted mystery of myself and I - 
I breathe into personification,
troubled only by the drawing whims of
self-arranged designation.
My worries,
my soul, my driven station -
recognition, great ambition:
Drawing hand, my many faces - 
boldly giving performance persona.

Projeto Arquivado by Wesley-Souza Ragnarok Mountain by somadjinn Good Morning..... by Tigles1Artistry Blue Flowers by Ludifico 25717-vk350 by vampirekingdom


Artist | Professional | Literature
United States
Current Residence: Cape Hatteras and New York
Favourite genre of music: All of it
Favourite style of art: All of it
Favourite cartoon character: Bill the Cat, Oor Wullie, Snoopy
Personal Quote: They're taking them out in little green bottles again, and they all look like you.


Wed Jul 26, 2017, 7:50 PM
Fri Jun 23, 2017, 3:49 AM
thank you for the favorite <3
Thu Jun 15, 2017, 8:33 AM
Thanks for :+fav:! :dance:
Fri Jun 10, 2016, 3:09 AM
hey, thank you so much for faving! :)
Tue Apr 12, 2016, 12:11 PM
Thank you very much for watching me. :)
Wed Mar 23, 2016, 9:03 PM
I have missed your work. Beautiful!
Sat Jan 16, 2016, 6:50 PM
Thanks for the favorite!! :sun:
Tue Dec 8, 2015, 6:57 AM
Thanks for the favorite, Brendan! :heart:
Mon Sep 28, 2015, 6:55 AM
Honored to be added to your watch my friend. Good times.
Mon Aug 24, 2015, 9:11 PM


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caddman Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Professional General Artist

most thanks say thee
for the faves and support...:) (Smile)

cheers and a nice day 2u

The FAN - Five Nights at Freddys 1 - GIF chat Icon The Cake Is A Lie Staryu
oviedomedina Featured By Owner 2 days ago
Thank you for the favorite!
aquagirl7 Featured By Owner 2 days ago  Professional Writer
Thanks for the Favorites Icon 3D 
Drusila333 Featured By Owner 2 days ago
Thank you for faving Erzebeth and The Visit, your appreciation is always welcome :heart:
Poetrymann Featured By Owner 2 days ago  Professional Writer
Thanks very much!
oviedomedina Featured By Owner 6 days ago
Thank you for the favorite on "Wallets will slip" :)
Drusila333 Featured By Owner 6 days ago
Thanks for faving ''Hungry'' the appreciation means a lot :blackrose:
LancelotPrice Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2017
Again I thank you for a fave, Brendan. :heart:
sesam-is-open Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2017
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