~lewstherin00
Lews Therin
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NavigatingSo many conflicted emotions, sailing on a sea of Fear, to crash upon the rocks of failure, or to go forth confidently into the unknown.Navigating
by ~lewstherin00
Unspoken feelingsI see the way you look at me, I hear your gentle laugh, I feel your breath upon me, I long to again feel your touch.Unspoken feelings
Even the softest grace of your fingers, upon my skin, Is stronger than the most torrid love, from the one I'm with.
Your love would be sweet, your embrace sublime, But it should not be, oh secret lover, how many we would hurt.
And as I walk away, I catch your glance, we share a smile, and we enjoy our guilty love.
by ~lewstherin00
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Portland, OR
- Interests: Drawing, playing guitar, reading, video games
- Favourite movie: Star Wars
- Favourite band or musician: Marcy Playground
- Favourite genre of music: Alternative
- Favourite artist: so many, I like classics like Michaelangelo
- Favourite poet or writer: PB Shelley, Robert Jordan
- Favourite style of art: classical, drawing, pastels
- Operating System: XP
- MP3 player of choice: dell dj
- Shell of choice: ?
- Wallpaper of choice: Hubble photos
- Skin of choice: the one I'm wearing
- Favourite game: Zelda, Chronotrigger
- Favourite gaming platform: any Nintendo
- Favourite cartoon character: Vampire Hunter D
- Personal Quote: "Jesus don't want me for a sunbeam."
- Tools of the Trade: Charcoal, pastels, painter, photoshop
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Redbird
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Official speach therapist for *Dark-Arts-Asylum
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My body is a temple, a well decorated temple
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* * they excuse my English, it is that I am using a translator!! thank you for they understand..
Studio Link:
* http://www.deuxillustration.com
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The Childlike Empress
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I am not fond of expecting catastrophes, but there are cracks in the universe. --Sydney Smith
Gallery Moderator, 3 Dimensional Art
joannastar[at]volunteers.deviantart.com
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wishful words bring flying birds.
poetry is writing secrets out in the open, just as concealed as they always were.
if blood isnt coming out of his head, he's not dead.
--
wishful words bring flying birds.
poetry is writing secrets out in the open, just as concealed as they always were.
if blood isnt coming out of his head, he's not dead.
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