daliena

is a Proud Prude

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To Create by daliena, literature

Literature

To Create

I want to create something earthshattering So that when people read it They become inspired with ideas of their own Children that they will see to paper And rear to explain themselves I want to create something earthshattering That will break through bias And once again we will see That we are not black or white But human; we are grey I want to create something earthshattering To make us feel good about ourselves What we conceive, The footprint on the earth we make The love that we give and take

The Changelings by daliena, literature

Literature

The Changelings

Every time she swallowed, it felt as though her throat were ripping itself apart, muscle from skin. Even though he would look at her, he would not touch her, but she knew that if he did then she would surely scream. His eyes were violating her, scrutinizing every blemish on her skin and every failure etched into her mind. He turned his head back to his work at the reception desk. She sat across from him, suit smoothed out to perfection, posture impeccable in the cushioned waiting room seats. The security camera stared at her with unbidden apathy, the glistening black lens reflecting her features in grotesque bubbled fashion. The aquarium

Maneater by daliena, literature

Literature

Maneater

Molly eased onto the couch, immediately lighting a cigarette and pressing it to pursed lips. The coral red lipstick stains left on the paper suggested that she had only just got home, but she already had a bottle of booze in one hand and a cancer stick in the other. She was an alcoholic and a nicotine addict leading herself to a fast death which she partially attributed to her mother ingraining the mantra 'Live hard, die young' into her since she was nine. Her mother had died shortly after her thirty-second birthday. A large aquarium composed the wall that faced the sofa and so its glittering blue-violet reflection sprawled across her bod

The Ghost of You by daliena, literature

Literature

The Ghost of You

It was quiet in his apartment; the shades were drawn to fend off the encroaching sunlight and the shambles of half-forgotten projects were constantly begging him for affection. Yet he could smell her coming. Not through his nose but through the way his mind ventured on to the thought of her involuntarily. Not that he regretted it. On cue, he heard her knuckles rap sharply at the door. He didn't bother to answer because she had a key and only knocked, he knew, to give him some semblance of privacy. Like clockwork, he heard the key slip into its sheath and twist to open the tumblers and let life in. It was a cruel game, he decided, to dangle

If I Never See Your Face Again by daliena, literature

Literature

If I Never See Your Face Again

The room smelled of chemicals, a cocktail of cleaners and sterilizers that would give anyone the nausea of losing your identity. When you enter that building through those doors, you become only known through your flaws. Where I am, you have no personality to get acquainted with. You have no mouth to laugh with, no eyes to blink, and no body to move. All you have is your mind that increasingly bores you and your ears which constantly bring you news of your downfall. I can hear my girlfriend enter the room because I know her voice and I know her cries. I think she's trying to stifle them because I can barely hear them over my respirator. Th

Ever-Mortal by daliena, literature

Literature

Ever-Mortal

When you come back, I wonder - Will it be the same? Or will things have changed The tears that we've shared Will they still be there? The love we had and lost And how it turned me inside-out For the first time I could see What I was made of and To tell you the truth, it scared me When you come back, I wonder - Will we be able to change? To be what we both wish to see Or are we the ever-mortal; As though we've always been

Le Grand-Pere by daliena, literature

Literature

Le Grand-Pere

It was Sunday morning and my grandfather was sitting in his armchair by the window reading the newspaper, as he did every week. Well, he pretended to anyways. Sometimes I would examine my toy car very closely; from its robin egg blue paint to its miniature steering wheel and car seats, I saw it all. And sometimes, If I were quick enough, I would catch Papa watching me from over the edge of his paper, smiling. Papa was born and raised in Toulouse, France, and he spoke no English. I had been a little late in learning how to talk and always had felt the pressure to yap my brains out, but with Papa I would feel silly if I spoke at all. We didn

For Your Own Benefit by daliena, literature

Literature

For Your Own Benefit

Most of the so-called friends had deserted me by then. I think it unnerved them to see how I could draw the truth from them before they even thought about it, or how I would stare at a wall for hours on end and never seem to tire of it. Maybe they'd been driven mad by my own insecurities or my own insanity. Sometimes I wondered how I could even stand myself. My psychiatrist had given up on me long ago so I just simply stopped coming, which of course led my family in to a rift. And for the longest time I couldn't understand it; I was the most sane person I knew. My thoughts were logical to me. To me, those are the key words I guess. Other p

Why Does Someone Have To Die? by daliena, literature

Literature

Why Does Someone Have To Die?

I still remember that night clearly. I had just gotten home from grocery shopping and was unpacking the goods, setting some off to the side of the counter and others into the fridge. My sister was upstairs listening to some Hilary Duff song that I had only memorized through unwanted repetition and my mother was, as always, in her bed reading. Or maybe she was drawing today. She went through spells where she would feel well enough so to ask me to take her down to the front porch to sit and draw bits of the front yard. She was no Monet, but her pictures had a crisp simplicity that was pleasant nonetheless. Other times she was so tired that she

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Sleep mends by daliena, literature

Never by daliena, literature

Literature

Never

I'm so sick of dreaming Wishing hoping thinking of what we could be but Never will Speaking words that mean nothing to Me but even less to You i Can't make it count all the hours we spend Wasted Crashed to a field of forgotten where Flowers bloom of love but i can't find the Perfect one so many letters but None seem right they Won't form my emotion they get knotted meshed mangled beyond all Hope of recognition You could save the things i Never said but whispered on papers with Forbidden titles never to be read but hidden with no hope of Revival.

Bite by daliena, literature

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helita

howwrongwewere

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helita

howwrongwewere

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intao

Pellavolen

cyanidearsonist

eleetheGreat

RYE-BREAD

gilad

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CeliaAlma

kris-wilson

GeneratingHype

piece-on-earth

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Deviation Spotlight

Choosing Life by daliena, literature

Literature

Choosing Life

I was mad, sure. So was he. And who wouldn't be at a loss for words after that? So we stared and sat. There wasn't anger in either of our eyes, only a sad sort of realization that we had just wasted the past ten years of our lives. It was a waste from the beginning, he said. I had gone into the church that day with uneasy feelings and I should've listened to them. We could have made it happen, I thought. But we were both too selfish to work together. Maybe it was doomed from the start like he said. But there was a nagging in the back of my mind that told me it was our fault for ruining what God had given us. We had love, which was more th

Choosing Life

daliena

About daliena

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Artist // Literature

United States
Deviant for 18 years
She / Her

Badges

My Bio

Current Residence: The Sunshine State
Favourite genre of music: No restraints
Favourite style of art: (tasteful) Pin-up, traditional, realistic.
Operating System: Mac mini, ha ha!
MP3 player of choice: 8gb iPod nano
Wallpaper of choice: Currently: Amy Lee
Favourite cartoon character: Daria

Favourite Movies

Superstar, Chocolat, The Black Dahlia, Blades of Glory, The Hours

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

t.A.T.u, MCR, Evanescence, The Sounds, Björk, Regina Spektor, Lily Allen

Favourite Writers

Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dean Koontz

Favourite Games

World of Warcraft, any Iron Realms game

Favourite Gaming Platform

Computer

Tools of the Trade

My keyboard and TextEdit or a pen/pencil and a post-it.

Other Interests

Music, languages, my bed, my friends, psychology.

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daliena

Oct 10, 2007

Yeah, ok....

0 min read

I overreacted. I've been wanting a new SN anyways. Moved to vespertin (https://www.deviantart.com/vespertin)

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daliena

Oct 1, 2007

Plz

0 min read

I need models. Two. Maybe three. Who are willing to have fake blood lathered on them... C'mon laurencaseykelly I know you want to.

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daliena

Sep 29, 2007

So uh

0 min read

When I go to college, I'm probably going to be one of those girls who sits in their room all day with the shades drawn and listens to music. And plays World of Warcraft.