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About Varied / Artist nikkoMale/United States Group :iconinner-realms: Inner-Realms
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Literature
sonder.
there are no pitfalls in the renown of hurt,
for it is always there
in the mold of something neglected,
something bloodshot; unraveling it from the prayer
of a public leukemia.
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Literature
coming war.
a king of disintegrating glitch, of possession-conquest,
the unquiet phenomenon to the silver-fleshed,
it preaches against a stormy flux
of her guilt, asteroid-ridden throne.
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Mature content
to drop heart and hiccup. :iconcrooked-clockwork:crooked-clockwork 1 4
Literature
thesmophoria in grey.
A statement to Cerberus, the roughhewn;
her blood is hypoxic, blooming florid,
that name too profound to be hummed so soon
frets the desert-beat heart, throbbing torrid.
Deep-sea glass will tell this sobering tale
through sundry a dawn of dusks and daybreaks,
in lifelong ties to a slow coffin nail
she dyes droplets of Sauvignon headaches.
Fixed in the Kuiper Belt, lobbed asunder
to the core of a ghost; plutonian,
her mother counsels the springtide thunder
in a burnt garden, his bid chthonian:
“Our grim daydreams, no longer monochrome –
mother, child, to dew from dead winter; home.”
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Literature
prison.
no one is born in prison,
some in waiting,
some in holding,
but no one is born in prison.
waiting can last for a few days,
to arrest us for crying too loud,
for a flustered first breath.
holding can bring tears and
scarred forearms, but only last a few seconds.
the whole world smiles at you,
but holds your hands behind your back.
from licorice ties to metal knots,
fresh fruit to torn underwear;
men and women grin,
but know they hold your heart
in contaminated fingers.
burrowing their nails deep,
forcing almond-tasting idiocy
farther into tender muscle
upon loving caress,
we are incessantly in prison –
we just aren’t born there.
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Literature
a fucked up joke.
his body in a bed of fleece, emaciated,
mind dreaming deep of his muse deceased;
this man of twenty-three, hero of none, a liar and a thief,
how dare he speak of love
when all he knows is to eat.
cannibal, not yet, yet tired of the term,
“they parody him,” they say, “they pervert him,”;
all disagree, though he has learned to tame his woes
in some form or fashion, screaming into sheet music,
dreaming deep of a muse deceased.
meat and muscle lacks taste, much like the scenery
after the night of the suppression –
left crying
please do not go
please oh god
do not leave me

when all he knows is to eat, they say;
when all he knows is to eat.
poison runs through his veins, familiar,
an overpowering dominance trait, misplaced;
reprehensible if not for a moment,
to think that love could exist in a mind
riddled with the need to taste
his marrow,
in his haste, un-borrowed –
taken.
but this man, in a bed of blood and fleece,
speaks to a lexica french
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Literature
sakura.
wedlock-born child of envy,
red-eyed misfortune, a cake to bake;
he sees the cherry blossoms and thinks of death
rather than life, plucked too early;
heart too broad, heart too simple.
the limbs of trees his own,
nature a nuisance but so close;
he creates a world similar to our own
but slightly more misunderstood.
his name for misanthropy,
red-eyed mischief and monopoly;
to steal his music and leave him faithless:
it
fills his lungs with fire;
fills his body with cancer,
for with it,
he will be all right.
drink the cold medicine down like
winter berries, for cherries don’t bloom like that;
no, cherries don’t bloom like that:
all snipped, no stem, all broken, no bone –
for without it,
he will be all right.
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Literature
ultraviolence.
chestnut hair, ocean eyes trapped in the glass of tragic romance,
like blue russian spies and the red bloodied soldiers;
that’s how she spoke, so choked up by tears and gunsmoke,
reverberation in a stadium, so red, white, and
blanche;
to run by the beach,
high and living to be young and die,
to be spry and breathe on borrowed lungs:
to inhale burn and exhale melancholia.
it’s humbly the american dream,
to be loved by a man with a golden soul so clean;
to wear your lips dripping with emotion and drink down
love to mine her coal-black spoils and pop-art crown.
she hugged her body close,
her caged heart a weapon she had to protect,
her words swords in her drive-in cinema;
but she drank again and again,
filled her belly with white alcohol, to die and die again –
but that’s how she wanted it.
that’s how she liked it; to feed her wasteland,
how she lived the american dream of being doe-eyed and forever seventeen
through strawberries and peaches and cream,
to rou
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Literature
borrasca.
the sky was dark, a violent repercussion
i should’ve recognized; the ultraviolet rays
from the spying sun, it seared my skin like
the poisonous moonlight breaking the windows –
death came like a wave, each day a new set
of tears to shed, a new vase
of pretty flowers to pick. the water
tasted bitter, but the lovely faces in the caskets
made it bearable.
at noontime, sipping tea and eating his tousled hair,
he dared to say he loved me. before our death,
after the burial,
i laughed, holding my un-beating heart far away from his fingers,
and once again,
“i love you.”
words more of a statement rather than a confession; like
underperforming mines,
illegal slaughterhouses,
a funeral of one,
and far too much like cancer of the eyes –
blinding,
and all at once.
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Mature content
violet. :iconcrooked-clockwork:crooked-clockwork 5 0
Literature
like a machine.
he can’t help his misunderstanding, his trust issues pent up like
bondage without the blindfold and war without bombs;
and he cries because he can’t take this break, he can’t take the uncertainty,
yet there’s a reason to believe his serenity;
he whispers apologies to the body he ignores,
caresses the chest he binds and the thighs he cuts;
small hips, big brain,
stupid thoughts, suicide heart;
he’s higher than this,
he’s more out of order, more out of control than this;
there is no breathing for him, only choking,
and there’s no way to know when or if he’ll shed this skin
so he may breathe again.
his eyes are like city lights smothered by the rain,
like smoke clouds stifled by the lavender winds of the summer field;
and he can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever get better,
if he’ll ever learn from his errors, from his spat-up mishaps;
they don’t know what he looks like on the inside, bones like serpentine,
broken pearl
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bring color to my skies. by crooked-clockwork bring color to my skies. :iconcrooked-clockwork:crooked-clockwork 5 2
Literature
17 cavities.
we’ve been called the sweet liquor
of the desert, the buried childhood
bones we left back in ’97,
the skirts we never wore and the ties
we threw up our lunch on.
they say we are rulers of our time,
but we’re just as lost as them;
we’ve been called flowers of the
infertile crescent only to birth
the most babies, only to sow the most
turmoil.
they told us to swallow
the discolored pillowcases from the days we spent in grass,
and to avoid the nights we spent in our cotton candy
chains. we are a very unapologetic bunch
yet they complain that we don’t speak quiet enough
(even though it was them that taught us how to scream).
in a land of hypocrisy,
a fraction of our heart resides in acid,
but beats on, thumping against the slow current of medicine,
barely alive but breathing as though
they’ve got their foot on our breaks.
we’ve been abused, and now shout; and these
angels,
they blame us for all our crooked angles,
when they were the ones holding
the
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Literature
drinking saltwater.
my waters are deoxygenated,
suffocating in algal blooms,
choked up in the year of the eclipse;
coughing on this moment that’s
lasted for as long as forever can last,
with this instance stuck in my throat,
peeling me open like a pit-less peach.
i keep jars of the blood i lose
stare at them like i didn’t mean it.
everything tastes like poison,
the sun burns me under all my
protection, even under my
violent natural high.
this toxicity is how i breathe,
how my body’s flora stays
replenished; though, it’s sad because
i can’t sleep.
restless, sleep-deprived,
disturbed, sucked dry.
i’m surrounded by paper tigers
that
can’t
won’t understand.
seventeen years, a wasteful attempt
without the serum,
without the cure
for my hypoxia.
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Literature
stockholm syndrome: i will not speak of your sin.
i came to you, choking on this space
between my neck and kidney stones,
and my eyes couldn’t see his grace.
her hands trailed my bones
and she made me swallow her praise.
she caused my muscles to shrink,
she ate my soul and spiked her drink
with my blood.
where the sun sets she will let loose
god’s flood.
all of us will bathe in his blood,
in the almighty wash of her flood.
she warmed my lips and where her fingers
shook, the handprints became clear.
my body was hers, no more coat-hanger
collarbones--
and i was shock-still in fear.
screaming won’t make her go away.
i will never be led astray.
she is my god.
she is my weapon.  
she came to me, gagging on his hair
and she needed me to take her home,
to be alone,
to be fair.
crawling with jewels in my stomach,
he chews on her bones, he breaks her soul –
she watches watches watches
until the hours grow out of control.
i have no desire to help,
but a soldier of broken wasteland,
crawling with her cracked ideals i
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how dare you speak of grace. by crooked-clockwork how dare you speak of grace. :iconcrooked-clockwork:crooked-clockwork 8 0

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crooked-clockwork
nikko
Artist | Varied
United States
Hey. My name is Nikko.

Visit my website! metanyxmerchant.com

:bulletblack: I'm your average broke artist.
:bulletblack: I put my cats before myself.
:bulletblack: I am taken by a beautiful boy that doubts his beauty.

El Psy Congroo.
:iconbummyplz:

Also, I know I never thank anyone for favorites, but I try to always respond to comments, features and the likes. However, a thanks for the generous favorites from my readers is hopefully implied. Again, thank you! :hug:

Some of my favorite artists that you should definitely check out!
:iconmariannainsomnia: :iconplacebofx: :iconmatthias-haker: :iconnanfe: :iconnataliadrepina: :iconnikolasbrummer: :iconcioccolatodorima: :iconcristina-otero: :iconshaolinfeilong: :iconsydsir: :icontaralundriganphoto: :iconwonderbandalice: :iconxiaoyugaara: :iconyuumei: :iconjon-lock: :iconlen-yan: :iconkhaoskai: :iconkostassoid: :iconkiyumiyu: :iconlaura-makabresku: :iconmediaviolence: :iconamazingartistyellow: :iconaphin123: :iconbailey--elizabeth: :iconchaosfissure: :iconelenahelfrecht: :iconhikariix: :iconhubedihubbe: :icon4bsinthe:

Some of my favorite writers that you should definitely check out!

:iconcopper9lives: :iconmatieucanadawilliams: :iconoaklungs: :iconpuddlethecat: :iconretrubutionist777: :iconsaltwaterlungs: :iconsetmyworldintomotion: :iconsolis-ortus: :iconssensory: :iconlady-yume: :iconlearningtobefree: :iconlittleblueraccoon: :iconannanious84: :iconbrokenfragilethings: :iconbrokencrystalrose: :iconcounting-vertebrae: :icondearpoetry: :iconastergirl: :iconchromeantennae:

My IRL friends and great artists (check them out as well!)

:iconshadownelliel: :iconxemptyxgravex: :iconzeldapokemonlover64: :iconkimiwaruiimouto: :iconbrokencrystalrose: :iconkirstenluttrell:
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:iconmorbid-t3mptation:
Morbid-T3mptation Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you ~ 
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TeaLeo Featured By Owner Dec 23, 2015  Student Digital Artist
Thanks so much for faving!
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comatose-comet Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
thanks for the fave :rose:
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panagiotios Featured By Owner May 24, 2015  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you so much for the fave! 
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:iconretrubutionist777:
Retrubutionist777 Featured By Owner Mar 20, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Oh mah gursh(: Thank you so so much for all the favorites! It made me extremely logging in and seeing all the notifications in my message box. *glomps you*
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:iconretrubutionist777:
Retrubutionist777 Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for favoriting "The Ache". It is truly special and encouraging after my long hiatus, to know you still enjoy reading my work(: So thank you, very very much!
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:iconlady-yume:
Lady-Yume Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2014   Writer
Hello,
Thank you, as always, for reading my work and adding it to your +favourites :+fav:!
Wishing you the best for the new year!:Bummies:
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:iconthebaresheet:
TheBareSheet Featured By Owner Dec 19, 2014  Student General Artist
thanks for the faves <3
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HugQueen Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2014   Writer
:hug:
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:iconlady-yume:
Lady-Yume Featured By Owner Nov 28, 2014   Writer
Hello,

Thank you so much for reading my work and adding it to your +favourites as always~! :heart:
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:iconwaywardgal:
waywardgal Featured By Owner Nov 26, 2014  Student General Artist
Thank you so much for taking the time out to favorite my works. It means such a great deal to me that you enjoy my art, and I hope you can consider watching Hug

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:iconhugqueen:
HugQueen Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2014   Writer
:hug: Thank you for the favorite.
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PoetryOD Featured By Owner Nov 18, 2014

:icontransparentplz::iconcloudsplz::iconhappysunplz::iconcloudsplz:

Thanks for reading and for faving my work! I really appreciate it 

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mickyjenver Featured By Owner Nov 15, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Thank you for the favorite on Cycling to Work :) You have some cool scary works :)

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ithaswhatitisnt Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks so much for the faves, my friend!!! :iconglomplz: :heart:
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Vasya-Masha Featured By Owner Nov 6, 2014  Student Traditional Artist
Thank you for the favs! :)
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PoetryOD Featured By Owner Nov 4, 2014
Thanks for the fave :]
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HugQueen Featured By Owner Nov 2, 2014   Writer
:hug:
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KalineReine Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2014  Professional Writer
Thank you so much for adding my work to your favorites. :iconmoesmileplz:
I really appreciate it! :iconrubcheeksplz:
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SeamlessMaiden Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2014  Student Writer
Thanks so much for the fave, dear! :tighthug:
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d-e-l-e-t-e-d Featured By Owner Oct 30, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you so much for the fave! :huggle:
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SeamlessMaiden Featured By Owner Oct 28, 2014  Student Writer
Thanks so much for the fave, dear! :tighthug:
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seaboundstars Featured By Owner Oct 25, 2014
Thank you. <3
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JenFruzz Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you for faving my first DD! I appreciate it :highfive:
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