Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Deviant Katie23/Female/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 3 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 22 Deviations 693 Comments 10,093 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

symptoms of red
               a materialist
               inside of you
               unknitting your sweater
               & in your dream
               you are a wolf eating
               a flower in an orange field. the world
               is ending. an unnamed girl stains you
               as if she were tea
               giving up to a
               foaming ocean.
               she writes a story: the unrequited
               blurry visions of two visionaries
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 93 40
intimate thunder
               in this microcosmic
               corner I have stolen
               your alcohol & I am
               missing the color
               you made the world turn
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 119 19
a dirty kitchen is no place to write a pop song
               decoded the architecture
               of your half-apologies
               while you were gone
               for someone to paralyze
               with nihilistic undertones.
               I was brushing collapsed dust
               off of your shredded
               cardigans, sadly
               & ultra-violetly
               flicking it off
               with blue fingers
               near where children
               told me they had
               never seen
               such smooth little stones before
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 28 20
nothing lies forever
               & if
               we kiss
               it's because I can't
               find you
               among the grassy ribbons
               of your old zeta ego
               & if I miss tongue,
               teeth and cheeks
               let the pavement carve
               new mouths into my tights
               she writes an another
               poem about cigarettes
               her east coast
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 44 17
don't trust me
               unhinged like a stolen
               surge of ocean, I become
               what your girlfriend thinks I
               am: drinking alone, forgetting
               your name until it flowers
               from my blackberry throat
               I wash my tangled
               hair in your kitchen sink,
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 58 28
i don't need to sell my soul
               laughing against frost,
               stylish arsonists + I still
               love every
               escaping from your lips
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 48 26
               sometimes, I pretend
               our home is tinnitus
               I scrape pine needles
               into a horizontal bowl.
               twisted scenery
               settling in like snow
               inside my finger
               bones, stirring
               up sparks. he
               may be the last
               explosive, a
               fire fight that bites
               through my palms;
               may be the last
               monolith to collect
               spacedust on
               his loneliness.
               I should be left alone
               letting the passage of time
               sink into the corners
               of my eyes
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 35 18
Mature content
what ana said :iconfake-theory:fake-theory 36 17
the inchoate incarnate
               it's a perfect
               night to be
               let go
               by the militia of
               our incoherent
               dry like yellow moss
               percolating through
               urban automata.
               how many
               sublime forests will
               burn with the charred
               quietude of our
               relative sobriety?
               how many
               neuroses can
               you cure
               wasting away
               beneath a weltering
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 29 20
hello, void
               static children
               build invisible
               an abducted plane
               ricochets between
               layers of inter-
               planetary media
               we are stomached
               by our parallels,
               dusting off
               musical knuckles with
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 40 17
why we're better now
               back the way we came past
               yellow-eyed coyotes, two
               caustic anachronisms
               getting the hell out of
               our futuristic vineyard,
               expanses spilling oceans
               on my neck. I wanted something
               certain from you
               the heart attack
               I slept through
               now, my lips pulse;
               sanguine peaches making
               music of arrhythmic lace
               as you rupture in the sea:
               a wet throat blooming
               open in tessellations
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 42 30
new suspension
               in hand-knit wool,
               he looks just like you:
               digging up snake skulls between
               fallen asteroids
               and I can barely see the face
               behind the violence
               I would rather be left
               alone with your chemicals
               setting water on fire
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 18 11
miasmata by fake-theory miasmata :iconfake-theory:fake-theory 5 10
two days after surgery
               victimized by
               & still
               bleeding from
               tender blackness,
               the fresh valleys
               between crushed
               you would be
               a vicodin
               with a love for
               non-existence like
               the smothered
               melody of
               silenced laughter.
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 26 31
               your ghost eats peanut butter
               out of the jar. an atomic grease
               fire tongues our oven like an
               if only we walked on clouds
               if only we lived in the belly of the ocean
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 35 17
literally, a quesadilla
                        more than you will
               ever understand,
               you smell like
               an impressionist
               painting. cigarettes,
               new car, shirt stuck
               to skin. laughing:
               I wonder what
               would happen if we
               fucked right here,
               no nerves,
               just confidently lacing
               the space between
               planets with electric
:iconfake-theory:fake-theory 44 22


Tu forma acuosa,
la mía en caída definitiva,
mi vientre mutilado esparciendo su carne agria
como si yo me devorara lo ausente de las tripas.

Originariamente el hambre haciendo belleza
cada una de mis ciudades oscuras,
cicatrices destrozadas por el peso de una caricia
que llevaba un número plural de uñas
desde lo puro de un beso
hasta la ternura más blasfema,
pero yo me mecía enturbiada de daño por la rareza de un lenguaje
en hilada desnudez contra la nieve que,
a tristezas,
me calentó los latidos que llevaba por hostias,
las tantas que me naufragaron hasta el hueso de una rotura.
Y cabizbaja,
sucumbí a la confianza de un desalojo
y no pude abrirme de piernas a un amor tan homicida.
:iconmissarcada:MissARCADA 10 4
No es que me acuchille el coño,
es un empujarme la piel sobrante
contra el costado de un vacío,
lamerme los labios,
la sangre tuya,
el amor.
Como llovida en orgasmos
por la cruz de un temblor
donde Cristo santificó el dolorcito
de una herida menos mía,
un manoseo gitano de hambres lapidando mis tetas,
el oleaje de una baba untando su mar
y todo el adentro de un prozac con la forma de dedo
derechito hacia mi tormenta,
esa que me otoñé para hacerme hueco
cuando tú decidiste voltearme las braguitas rosas
e introducirme tu bestialidad obscena
para yo versar lo poema de mi vulva.
No es que me haga la noche,
es que soy puta de tanto el asco,
de conjurarme un beso suicida en lo partido de paladar
hasta que un perro me viola con su recuerdo afilao',
y yo grito, porque no sé hacer del silencio mi sepultura,
porque tampoco desisto de invadir el mundo con mi voz,
dejarlo todo en lo ruinoso de un verbo nauseabundo,
morir lo amor de un amor flaquito y desnutrido,
(lo siento, nunca supe follar si
:iconmissarcada:MissARCADA 8 9
Mermaid ( muse ,under ice )
Everything drowns
few colorful baubles thrown in the water
               for the sign of the letters
where there was a flowing water moments ago , now it´s covered
                                                      with the coat of ice .
Tu belle , sweet diamond ,
             under the ice
In the raw nerves of the drunken mermaid
  screaming to a mirror
sail away to the distant shores
              just a few of them knew
     and the slippery step
:icon7markus7:7markus7 7 7
algorhythm and blues
the picture hanging above my toilet says that there are still some good people in this world. i would like to believe it, but i do not trust the things that hang above my toilet. i also do not trust the things that hang above my head.
do not hang yourself above my head. if you pretend to be something you’re not i will only ever trust you. you are not good (good people do not hang themselves above other peoples heads) but you are honest. even good people lie, but only the honest are capable of deceit.
deceit is not a thing that holds interesting conversations, i’ve found. though virtuous in it’s own right it remains cowardly; it’s empty of power but uses the force of sheer density to wring laughter from the small, quiet maw. i do not welcome it into me. it is far too swollen and so instead i live beneath it and it is my soporific. it is my sky.
the sky is a formula not wont to form a structure. it’s a catalyst it’s a metaphor it’s an epit
:iconmindlessthinker:MindlessThinker 11 4
multi-lingual ethical icecream
purchased on sale
eaten in secret
a pint at a time.
:icon007-fleetingpassions:007-FleetingPassions 2 0
I walked for miles and miles through the old burnt-out factory. The windows were all broken. When I called out for you, there was no one there but a black cat named Tika. She smiled at me and told me things that lead to disease. The first thing was wandering through burnt-out factories.
I walked for miles and miles through the old burnt-out factory where they keep all the dead dreams. Some were still alive, but they were dying, curling around the edges like paper. Through a broken window I could see a vast field of nothing. Nothing at all.
I walked for miles and miles through the old burnt-out factory. The bricks were black, licked by old flame. You were there, and your parents, and all of our parents. It was a party, but no one was happy. I think it was because we all had to wear oxygen masks.
I walked for miles and miles through the old burnt-out factory, leaving crumbs of stale cookies so I could find my way back. A crow followed behind, eating the crumbs. It didn't matter. I had fo
:iconbark:Bark 15 9
upon opening my eyes
not only did light flood in
but so too did the pangs of regret
admiration and awe
a smoothie of oxidants and intoxicants 
swirled through my straw set of lungs
dimly lit room where the worst shadows
lie underneath my skin and i haven't even moved
yet, and yet still there is brightness
it almost comes from within
i breathe in, slight shockwave 
as troublesome as it sounds
i have missed the feeling in everything i do
:iconlittle-supernova:little-supernova 4 4
Changing Change
i was just getting used to 
calling myself "the mistress character," capital-M 
function: be a catalyst to change
when he left her, his past, behind him
in a flurry of fall leaves descending
on my winterstiff hands holding labyrinth grass 
and came to me
kissing palms and saying
that we will never call me the M-word 
again, watching the blue sky be
he says he's saved it into memory
the stillness i embodied with shuddering breath
eyes set on living the change i'd given
:iconlittle-supernova:little-supernova 2 0
he moved in 
quarters at a time
seven stacked high on my desk
beside the book of sigil-musings and
cortisol pills 
his smell sewn into the fabric of my 
solitary blue blanket
he thinks it's not enough
to keep me warm
no, it's not
but his love is
:iconlittle-supernova:little-supernova 1 2
we meander and roam
in a sea of red visitors,
an addiction spat out.
i am a tastelessly naked forever,
lost hair and so many
phone calls.
i could have stippled fear
into the freckles in the folds
of your eyelids—
those bruised sheets over blue
records that spin
away to a realm i cannot see.
i played your martyr, deeming
your touch an invasion:
the hand of the clock is stuck
inside me. this muddy
moaning yellow sits
between my legs, but i cannot
make love to a ruined sun.
in this flush of dead light
i reach to hold your hand by instinct
and do not cry when you refuse.
from miles away, in my bed
i roll over in this wet
homicide of sincerity, going
from lover to quitter
in a single breath.
i cannot live in a world
of our immaculate
my unfreckled eyelids
are in labial spasms.
i swear, this time
i am giving birth
to myself.
:iconignotism:ignotism 9 10
Fantastic Feature Tuesday #53
Please +fav this article so it will reach a larger audience!
This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.
Also this should really be renamed to Fantastic Feature Wednesday because I suck at setting myself deadlines but anyway.

your voice sounded like a torrid
of gunfire and shells, breathing
an attack, attack attack

if i were to crumble
like the sandcastle i am
i only need to lean back fearlessly, trusting
to find your spine resting there all the while

In that moment I was flush,
over-ripe for the picking, aching
to be bitten, tasted,
devoured by a fresh mouth.

he says that beautiful th
:iconforestmeetwildfire:forestmeetwildfire 6 12
the sound
of oncoming rain
through an open window
somewhere laughter spills
like marbles
:iconpelicandeath:PelicanDeath 20 6
Your acumen sharpens
in the stirring of a bur oak
like a lifeform in the limbs
a contretemps in the stillness
a whisper of a thought
a wrist jostled in a northern front
and here comes your aimless code
pecking holes into the new wind
a raver behind a window
in a summering driftwood cathedral
summoned from a force majeure
stealing from your audience
with the paling dead of creek bottoms
and figments curling in their wings.
:iconspoems:spoems 22 20




1. When did you first start writing?

In seventh grade, I had the most awful English teacher you could imagine. She smelled like cat litter, was lazy and didn't care about the course material or her students. Therefore, she would give us weekly creative writing assignments, on which she failed everyone and ridiculed most of the students who read their stories and poems aloud. As the prospect of ever getting A's in the class dwindled away, my best friend and I turned these impossible assignments into a competition between us. Tossing aside all literary conventions known to seventh graders, we embarked on a quest to determine who could write the funniest, most ridiculous and experimental story each week. Writing these absurd, dark parodies of our little lives eventually became fun. I've been writing ever since.

2. Why do you write?

I might differ from the rest in saying that I have always written only under the influence of other people, friends of mine who write and have shared their interest with me. I hadn't written much for a while before I started living with v-espertine, who is seemingly always overcome with creative energy (in a good way!) and it becomes infectious. Aside from that, I write to relieve stress, for mental and emotional exercise, to procrastinate, what else?

3. What specific area would you like to improve in? (i.e. flow, character development, etc.)

I would like to become more capable of talking about poetry. I feel like, often, I find poems that I love, but I don't know why and I would like to know. I would also like to know how to have better ideas more often. With enough persistence, I can usually get anything tumbling, but it takes me such a long time to get started that I can't always do it. I know these concern the writing process more than the writing product, but I really would like to improve in these ways.

4. Name at least three fandoms you are familiar with.

I don't write fanfics (anymore), so I doubt this is relevant, but at the risk of sounding cliche let's just go with Doctor Who, Harry Potter and Game of Thrones (you don't need the whole list, I promise).

5. How do you hope to better the literature community? Do you hold any benefits, now or in the past, regarding the literature community?

Oh, I don't know. Does filling this out count? But seriously, I feel as though my limited knowledge and busy schedule in real life don't permit me to be any more active than I already am. Still, I would like to continue read and share exciting work, and spread positive energy when I can. I don't have any "benefits" besides my watchers (who are all wonderful!). 

6. Feel free to add anything else if you wish.

I think I'm good! Thank you <3


United States
Katie, 20, freelance programmer and sometimes-writer living in Los Angeles. I live with this sprightly young man v-espertine and we have a flat-faced ginger cat named Mushroom.


Add a Comment:
91816119 Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2014   Writer
Happy birthday, dear! Hope you have a fabulous day. :tighthug:

YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2014   Writer
Happy Birthday! :cake:
ithaswhatitisnt Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
happy birthday! you are missed! :tighthug: <3
crystallized-skies Featured By Owner Aug 12, 2014  Hobbyist Writer

Hello There! :wave: My name is Jade and I am a volunteer with TheDailyBreadCafe. I just wanted to thank you for being apart of this wonderful community and for being with us in our feature. I hope we've been able to spread a little joy and encouragement your way. 

Thank you for being deviously creative! :dalove:

#TDBC Founder: AlphaManifest and Assistant Manager: C-A-Harland 

DrawingMojo Featured By Owner May 15, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Woah. I read your featured poem at it made me like poetry. Thank you.
Tales-of-Tao Featured By Owner Jan 5, 2014  Student General Artist
Sailing the seven seas Hello, lovely! Your wonderful work has been featured here: Have a great day!
wh0rem0ans Featured By Owner Dec 21, 2013
Thanks :frail:
i-am-a-bridgewalker Featured By Owner Nov 26, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
watching you back. you've got skill. = )
Jade-Pandora Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2013
hello by Pixelisto
em-arginated Featured By Owner Nov 3, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the watch!
Add a Comment: