Raptor45

Jordan J.

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Binge-Lie by Raptor45, literature

Literature

Binge-Lie

Split second decisions - split skull harrows the incline to remission. These few times I've opened my casket for the moths to pour in - These leering images drowning my newborn approach. My anchor is a juvenile, paper made joke, deteriorating in the ravenous sea. I'm eaten alive with bare muscle exposed to mosquitoes with fangs, wishing they'd transfer a little of my blood back to you. Like a Lawyer defending the most vile of creatures, I binge-lie to receive the sparks in your eye. Its glisten like a hundred maggots pouring out of a crow's cadaver. I cut - You drink.

Jugular Opening by Raptor45, literature

Fade by Raptor45, literature

Sweat from the Moon by Raptor45, literature

Literature

Sweat from the Moon

A long stretch home - the lamppost begins to flicker, I look down. There's no use observing it struggle for life, for current, for a small generous gift of guidance. My hand slips into my right pocket, caressing the switchblade. I hold it like its my only daughter being set free into a playground of pedophiles, rapists, molesters - where I'm left to just watch her glide into disgust & filth. The grip is merciless. Both my wrists are now wet. An array of sweat drops fall from my hair. A single crow lay smothered into the cement as if it were L.A. graffiti. It looks similar to me when I gaze at the ceiling. Lifeless. Without care. On

Skeleton Stash by Raptor45, literature

Literature

Skeleton Stash

What is life anymore. Each thought is a percussion underwater. It makes no sense. My belief in happiness is an echo between two mountains. Its meaningless. It makes no sense. I was born with a million smiles, and with this last one, I give to you. I can bleed a billion feelings into a well of hope, and walk away with nothing but a sickening gash in my throat. I was coughing up my veins, as you took the rail. A liter of plasma splashes knee high, remnants singe and scrape. This feeling is an ingrown hair in the center of my eyeball. Protecting you, a waste, as religion is to man. I've been redirected on the wrong route ho

The Crawl by Raptor45, literature

Literature

The Crawl

On my brightest day, there is still dust pouring through And on my darkest slate, I convulse and wither like European economy Huddled on a sheet of moss. I wish to embody such a bodacious thought. Larvae. It hits the ground like hail. I catch a glint of your lashes around the bonfire. Both your pupils glow like sonar. People surround me, it's damp. Everyone leaves, I feel outnumbered. Medication. Tingles. The Crawl. Fall. Just as I arise to a knee, something claws my mouth, my eyes. My own hands craft a weapon with the intent to gouge. The intent to disfigure. It's like a Grizzly on methamphetamine, proding and dehinging it

Danielle III by Raptor45, literature

Literature

Danielle III

Despair. Half a quart of rye asleep in my body. I'm finished with her, she's a write off. A stop-sign proves to me its inconvenience for the last time. My right foot feels heavy on the accelerator. Throttle opens wide like a mothers arms to her vanished child Dark. I wake up to the sound of rushing water. Everything is green, blue, emitting life. I'm horizontal with the creek. There's blood on the airbag. My windshield has taken a beating, so has my chest. I can see pebbles on my carpet, and notice the lacerations in my pelvis. I'm shirtless and fed up with how the sun keeps staring at me. More wreckage. Bent metal, bent bones.

Danielle II by Raptor45, literature

Literature

Danielle II

It's pissing out. Heave.. Keep pulling the dead weight. Lift and align on this rotten pallet. I'm half asleep, but on my feet. Ignoring how numb my hands are, I get vivid flashbacks of her face. Outside, I let the rain pour down my backside. It's like a crystal scorpion stabbing my spine, but there is no blood. There is no solvent in the world that will cleanse the rust off my skin. I look up at the mountains. This is tough. I sneak a shot of vodka on the job. The stench of rubbing alcohol, but the joy of its contents sizzling in my stomach. I hear a sound. Her voice so implicit, like stargazing with a blindfold on. I throw

An Axe and My Throat by Raptor45, literature

Literature

An Axe and My Throat

Still here at the wishing well, throwing bombs into an open ocean They skip and bounce on the fragile film of water Such a view from this cliff They skip like the rain would off her cheek under my bodied umbrella Self-made cover to keep this girl alive Dead for months with forest embers littered in her room I sit, wait, bleed, grin She frowns, heals, lets the axe wounds spew A simple combination of words can relate to choking on tacks She wraps those hands around my throat, laughing as the blood turns to gold I try to count the charcoals in her eyes, grasp the brimstone for another try Could let her stab me for weeks and still a

Descend to the Dirt by Raptor45, literature

Literature

Descend to the Dirt

All this time I felt so "cool", just been mining fool's gold The more I search, the less I find, if she was even worth the strive Like the snipping of twenty umbilical cords, we're released on our own with blood spewing from our bellies I wish she would come crawling back on her knees, lower than her usual descent, but I'm joyful of this present proposal I'm smiling like a German Soldier would in 1944, looking back at the pile of bones of something so pathetic.

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Binge-Lie by Raptor45, literature

Literature

Binge-Lie

Jugular Opening by Raptor45, literature

Fade by Raptor45, literature

Sweat from the Moon by Raptor45, literature

Literature

Sweat from the Moon

Skeleton Stash by Raptor45, literature

Literature

Skeleton Stash

The Crawl by Raptor45, literature

Literature

The Crawl

Danielle III by Raptor45, literature

Literature

Danielle III

Danielle II by Raptor45, literature

Literature

Danielle II

An Axe and My Throat by Raptor45, literature

Literature

An Axe and My Throat

Descend to the Dirt by Raptor45, literature

Literature

Descend to the Dirt

Watchers 12

AVolatileCalm

nahadin

lone-arcangel

ketsurakuame

DylanThiessen

teishia-t

dinomagic4life

lalalucky0307

purpleginger

RainbowJizzz

xoteresa

swallowbastion

Watching 13

animalsarepeopletoo

Hyperionic-Xmissions

nahadin

AVolatileCalm

lalalucky0307

courtneymowat

Obsidian-Razorblade

dinomagic4life

DrExplodo

fairycatcher-Jessica

purpleginger

springtimesunshine

swallowbastion

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Cold. by AVolatileCalm, literature

Literature

Cold.

My eyes are open this morning they snap like shattering glass and drink the sun like desert leaves; I sit and bask in winter's more glorious moments in the backyard of my earth, and I steal its rays as though all australians were made equal to that of a reptiles' heart. It speaks in silent saps of light; it drips the fate of power onto my back I feel it, the end to a precious day and chill enters my dress like a pervert at a candy store (busy shops busy hands the life sucked right from my eyes and the sun laughs its way to the ends of the world and back, only revealing itself again when it's over).

Feel sorry for yourself. by AVolatileCalm, literature

Literature

Feel sorry for yourself.

i. I once watched a cow be slaughtered in no- body's honour but man-strength. ii. No amount of pride is shown when a deer may collapse after the sight of a long-range, slung over bare-back shoulder-muscle and life's weight. iii. Carving knives sharpened to glitter on the end of a leather belt. iv. Brows furrowed, they moved like perverts molesting the dead-poor for a wage that only rests at the pub in evening light, that lets all men lose sight of their smiles. v. They beat the cow with the hilt, and ripped its patch-hide until its entire life was lost or forgotten or just as theirs -- counted.

comforter by Hyperionic-Xmissions, literature

Literature

comforter

the fabric of happiness a patchwork of fibers the thread of sadness woven neatly on the edge the larger the quilt the deeper the sadness aching to be warmth perfect warmth, for her, tucked in as i am sucked in to a love larger than all of the pieces sewn in the fabric of happiness woven over and over larger, with each passing day, smile, embrace laid out across the horizon rolling, folding in the breeze, across the horizon

gibbous by Hyperionic-Xmissions, literature

Literature

gibbous

smoke crosses the threshold twisting day into night and somewhere there's a lost to be found begging the heavens for the help once refused relegated, wrapped into laughter and clouds retreating revealing the wax, now waning bringing the howl of wolves seeking step by step across black rivers glistening hope shining like reflections from the sky, rolling on waters cold, the space between growing darker, waxing only to wane again

Love Revenge by jackiewelles, literature

Literature

Love Revenge

I love the way you tease, With your finger tips on my back, Breathing hushed whispers of things I could only dream at night. I love the way your touch makes me freeze in my steps: Swaying between the need to stand still, And the temptation to shudder in mindless ways. If only you could stop teasing for even a moment, A moment for me to try to collect my mind, Then I could show you just how much it means for your love to be mine.

soliton by Hyperionic-Xmissions, literature

Deviation Spotlight

The Face of Treblinka: Part 1 by Raptor45, literature

Literature

The Face of Treblinka: Part 1

"January 28th, 1944. I didn't want to do this anymore. We are humans, not animals. Well.. maybe they were but certainly not me. I don't know if the ashes that hit my cabin within this camp were charcoal, or human flesh. How can such a systematical error of the mind corrupt my people into committing this atrocity? Ich bin ein Deutscher. I am a German. Today's defiler of the Jewish race, torturing, slaughtering and bringing their race to mashed, bare bones. How many more are going to meet the incinerator.." I slammed my notebook shut, a little too hard that it even startled me. This cabin was damp and frigid. I needed to get the hell out of

The Face of Treblinka: Part 1

Raptor45

About Raptor45

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

Aug 6
Canada
Deviant for 16 years
He / Him

Badges

My Bio

The name is Jordo.
I'm 20 years old.
The aspects of psychotic music amuse me, as well as the ambient/melancholic ones.

Current Residence: B.C, Canada
Favourite genre of music: Death-Metal/Grindcore/Depressing
MP3 player of choice: I-Pod
Favourite cartoon character: Hank Hill

Favourite Movies

The Mist

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Nasum/Katatonia/Insect Warfare

Favourite Writers

JR Hayes

Favourite Games

Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion

Favourite Gaming Platform

PC or anything Nintendo

Tools of the Trade

Axe

Other Interests

Psychotic Music, RPG Games, Dark Poetry, Beer, Partying with friends, Enjoying Nature

Posts

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Raptor45

Aug 20, 2013

Refilled

0 min read

Got some new ink in this pen, again.

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Raptor45

Jul 5, 2010

Thievery

0 min read

It was shocking to know that I found a website in which a girl had been posting many of my previous poems on her page, stating she had written them. These stemmed back from 2009/early 2010. Pisses me off completely. I don't know how someone can lack such originality and rob me like that. Fucking bitch.

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Raptor45

Mar 1, 2010

2010 Winter Olympic Games

0 min read

So the past 4 weeks of my life have been absolutely incredible.. Having the Olympic Games come 30 minutes from my Hometown has been the best thing to happen to me in a long, long time. Each weekend, I'd head down there with a few friends, down a bunch of beers, and roam the streets filled with hundreds of thousands of others.. The feeling of absolute positivity is in the air down there.. It really takes a load off your shoulders, and you feel soothed. My love for Russian culture rapidly increased more being able to meet and greet dozens of them on home turf... My goals of going to Russia someday just got even higher.. I found myself weari