Decipher My Metaphor
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Hi.
I'm Diva.
Writer
Graphic Designer
Art Teacher
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Check the links above if you want to know more about me.
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What you can find in my blog:
Art - Surrealism, Traditional, Collage, commercials, Dadaism, Typography, black and white, Digital, photography, Contemporary, mixed media and trippy colors.
Weed and Alcohol related.
Music - Classic rock, Trance, Oldies, Metal, Classic Hip Hop, Electronic, Ballad, Synth, Grunge, Instrumental, Punk, Minimal Techno, Dubstep, Alternative rock, Funk, Psychedelic and Classical.
Depression - Morbidity, dark humor, angry texts and odd images.
Fashion related.
Me - Narcissism, friends, artworks, literature and daily notes.
Sex related
Anti-discrimination - Sexism, bigotry, views on politic, prejudice and racism.
Nostalgia - Cartoons, Manga, Games, Anime and TV Shows.
Movies related.
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I disable anon questions.
Please talk to me without the grey face, I won't judge you.
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ALSO
Check my deviantART and other blogs
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deaflogorrhea.deviantart.com
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Fashion blog: sripticalkubus.tumblr.com
Anime and Manga blog: junishi.tumblr.com
Art blog: walkingonpebbles.tumblr.com
Porn blog: sexual-hunger.tumblr.com
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Have a nice day.
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Torment the flame.
Wither the clouds on the sky.
Melt the meadow and try not to cry.
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Remove all flesh, cover the stain.
Plant the water.
Refill the rain.
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Direct odd prisms.
Compromise the ink.
Hover down, I’d rather not blink.
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Fail the suicide and knit a heart.
Quitting an old habit.
This is a start.
Hey there, are you running away from the vibrancy?
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Not this time?
This pleases me.
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Don’t forget to unclog the fumes, it might cause repetition.
Hence the contemporary patterns.
It is too beautiful and too guilty.
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Out there, on the balcony, I am expecting a bad weather.
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Move me, highjack me.
The acceptance over the lake is not temporary anymore.
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We are all terrible anyway.
Yes, I’m slacking off at work.
Sad nod, bitter gesture.
Visually a peasant, verbally a knight.
Perhaps your eyes are the culprit.
I’m not sure if this is right.
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I yawned but you were stretching.
The melting chocolate is my fault.
Guilt, joy, thoughts and frown.
It would always feel like mineral salt.
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Clearly, this is the wrong era.
The wrong choice but valid connection.
All we need now is a terrible rain.
I don’t mind this odd location.
Poster paint on a memo with cardboard frame.
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I get inspired easily at the workshop nowadays, maybe it’s the surrounding.
Pencil.
My male self.
Sitting down on a dead fountain while the shimmers pass by.
Promiscuous levitation and constant starvation.
This is it.
I don’t want to be cold.
When will I be adequate? Pft, don’t share your light.
Clouds please stay, please wrap the finance and provoke the solemn.
Joke about grand testimonials.
Taunt the suave.
If the decision is mine, then how do I wrong everything?
This is not about self-destruct.
This is not about me.
The up is there, unfortunately, the lower ground fits more people.
Sketches I did in the workshop after office hours.
I’m so rusty now, damn.
With burnt fingers, I collapsed.
The abyss.
I must go to receive it.
Redeem all the fluid.
Recreate infinity.
Where can I quantize this energy?
Hoarding it as an offspring.
Pledge the flame.
Void and avoid.
Lower teeth clenching the upper.
How did the soil become so grey?
Be done with it and press the blue button.
My boss wanted to show the clients a new craft and my workmates failed to make one so they asked me to do it because I went to an art school (that’s their reason, I swear).
So this is what I did.
I couldn’t do much because they want the raw craft, with no paint and touch-ups.
My boss said it looked great, yay!
This is what I did for the pre-interview.
They played Classical there, the kids were cute and the employees were mostly mother-figure type of ladies.
The boss was pretty strict for all the right reasons but she was nice too.
She told me that I’m kinda confirmed working there, but I need to settle that working permit crap before Tuesday, so I can start my training on Thursday.
The workshop is pretty cool, they have baking classes, clay classes and painting classes.
Poster colour, recyclable items and the smell of flour.
This will be a great job.
To be admirable is to scramble people’s vision.
To have a furry doubt.
And to live up to the black table.
A helping hand, don’t count it with kilometers.
Don’t be nice, because it consists of hope.
Half flare, half nude.
Just declare your desperation, connect the cable.
Smell this color and decide your equipment.
Floating fire.
Boiled air.
Humid water.
Regenerate that palm.
You created cancer with your impersonation.
You enthused glum, you provoked wrath.
Within that embarkation, you illustrated a temporary yet terrible argumentation as well.
When will your floral wall collapse?
I am patient enough.
Scalping your false identity would clear the fog.
His ignorance, the things he does in a nonchalant way and his numb eyes, they are so unattainable sometimes.
