I've decided to start doing features in my journal. I'm not sure how often I will do them, but I figured it was long overdue. I'll be doing them in categories, and these will vary from time to time, depending on what I'm really in to at that point. There will also be a mix of writing and visual artwork in these features, so there will be plenty to view no matter what type of art you prefer.

The things I will take into consideration when I choose the art I feature:
The piece has to catch my eye. Whether that means the first word or sentence dragged me in, or I briefly glanced at it and was instantly drawn to look at it more closely doesn't matter: it caught my eye.
The piece has to pull some sort of strong reaction from me. Laughter, sadness, understanding, happiness- if I feel any type of strong emotion, laugh out loud while reading/looking at it or cry while reading/looking at it, then it got a strong reaction.
If the other two conditions don't apply, then I simply have taken a strong liking to the piece for some personal reason. I may not even know why I like it so much, just that I do and feel I must share it. Just go with it; sometimes I don't even know why I like my own art.

The categories for this first group of features are: Poetry, Fantasy (writing and visual), Horror (writing and visual), Non-Fiction, Seasonal (writing and visual).

Please make sure to check out the galleries of all the wonderful artists featured in this post!



Poetry

Believe MeI know
You keep six billion secrets
behind the bends of your knees.
But if you let me uncurl your legs
I could let every guilt ridden pound of shame
float away on summer breezes.
And if you realized how light your limbs really are,
would you finally dance with me?
And I know
You trap all of your feelings
in the dips of your collarbone.
Chained down in folds of skin,
If you let me pick this lock
I can release all those emotions you're so afraid of having
And if you see your own feet unbound,
would you finally run free with me?
And I know
You cradle doubts and insecurities
in the palms of your hands.
They leak into your blood stream,
weighted down fears and uncertainty
sinking like rocks to the bottom of your heart.
But if you let me kiss down every vein in your wrist,
would you finally believe you're beautiful? :thumb268036346: :thumb264593156: turn off the lights, baby.soak me in poison and hang me out to dry,
pick me up and when you reach the moon, drop me so
i fall to the earth like a meteorite. call me
beautiful and i'll smile as you pull my rib cage
apart. rip my heart out and bury it somewhere in
the earth. i'll tell you i love you and you'll
laugh and watch me fall apart to pieces of sharp
window glass. Tattered TeddiesShadows.
Creep,
   crawl,
      and caress my cheeks.
Hands.
Flutter along the walls;
   butterflies with shattered wings.
      flying,
         dipping,
            soaring,
               dropping.
Carpet under tender feet,
   and silence between my toes.
Door.
   Finger itching on forbidden wood.
      Sliver of light, begging.
Curiosity.
   Flowing from me.
      Ebbing beneath the door.
               
Reach
   out.
Slam.
Into my chest.
   Breath erased from my


Fantasy

Conflict of InterestsThe whole universe seemed to shift, twist and bend, even constant forces like gravity and atmospheric pressure rippling in fluctuation.  With a violent 'pop', and a static-like tingle across her flesh, Emephira finished manifesting, popping her ears and feeling the sensation of dry, freezing air stinging her bare skin.  Despite the inhospitable climate, before doing anything else she looked herself over anxiously; no matter how she knew the manifestation process was harmless, she had not yet quite grown fully comfortable with it, and the irrational fear that she might end up with her parts in the wrong places or something was foremost in mind.
Her smooth, healthy pink skin was suitably flawless and unharmed, nothing out of place from her dainty toes to the tips of her slender fingers, aside from the profusion of cold-induced goosebumps.  The immaculate white of her beautiful, feathered wings was similarly untouched.  Letting out a private :thumb267048219: :thumb268055133: :thumb267976461:


Horror

Mature Content

:thumb263679678:


Non-Fiction

WonderlandI'm trapped in Wonderland.
It's not as fun as they say here, down the rabbit hole. There's no tricky cat, no crazy hatter, no talking mice, no tea parties, no unbirthdays, no talking flowers. It's not fun at all, and no land of wonder. It's a land of Hell, that's it. My own nightmares, stalking me. Watching me. Whenever I'm alone, they're there.
My monsters. My demons.
My Wonderland is your world. Your everyday world, filled with school and work, love and joy. It's full of everything you see. Trees, grass, houses, clouds, animals, family, friends, the works. Nothing too different at all. In fact, I'm perfectly normal. I'm just like you. Just as sane.
Except when I'm alone.
It's then that I go down the rabbit hole, only wanting to crawl right back out again. I joke about it after the fact, put it off lightly. I say it doesn't bother me and, sometimes, it doesn't. Other times, it won't leave me alone. It nags and nags and nags, driving me further into a corner of my mind where I can find Passerby and Just One DropPasserby
      I woke up and the first thing on my mind was to take a piss. I felt rather groggy that morning as I got up on a beautiful morning and walked to the bathroom. The air smelt stale like... bread that's been out a tad too long. It wasn't very far, still I stumbled my way towards it putting my hand on the yellow and white two-toned wall to keep from falling over and opened the door. While I was relieving myself , however, I noticed something strange on the white doorframe.
    
  It looked like a mold. It was an amorphous blob on the wall and I wondered what it was. I finished washing my hands and just looked at it. It was dark green with a thick, uneven surface and hair like strands coming out of it.
   
   I looked from afar as I felt freaked out by this and I slipped through the door to avoid it. I wanted to show mother, but she was still asleep; she values her sleep you know. So I wa It's Like AmenIt's like this.
You wait up night after night, sitting next to a father who doesn't notice whether you're alive or dead - not because he doesn't care, but because he cares too much.
You lie in a bed that's not yours, three hundred miles from home at three o' clock in the morning, the words "fifty-fifty" running through your head like a mantra. You dig your fingernails into your skin so hard that it bleeds, and you almost laugh because you can't feel a thing.
You sit on a sofa in a bungalow on a hospital site shared with five strangers and your father. You're the youngest there by a good few decades, and you hate the toast. You find it odd that you can think such a trivial thought.
The strangers are all waiting, waiting for the same thing you are, but in different ways. You're told to lock your bedroom door at night.
You find yourself wandering around the strange town in the foreign country that's not really that foreign. Same language. Same island. You buy a toy dog for the mama who ca :thumb179301918:


Seasonal: Autumn

AutumnAutumn, season of mournful beauty
Gaze as the trees explode with color
Filling to the point of overflowing
Until the branches can no longer hold
And so they let go in a sweet surrender
A silent suicide, a delicate descent
And the tree, now vacant and lonely
Dies away for another season
And bright sun, mourn not for your loss
No longer shall you warm the midday hours
Your authority over day has ended
Now humble yourself and make way for night
Grieve not for the green of the earth
Are your expectations so great to last the year?
Is the rain not breath enough for you?
Wither and pass on, for we shall meet again
When nature is more suited for your demands
Come autumn's chill, come extended night
The leaves lie down in your footpath
The moon shines to light your way
The skies weep for the end of harvest
Come soon, oh darker days
Come soon, oh rains of mourning
Let us rejoice and mourn in your beauty
Oh dying season moments last foreverHey you. Yeah you, my future husband who I haven't met yet.
Let's pretend we meet in autumn, even if we really don't. You know how everyone says they'd love to have a summer romance? Let's fall in love during the fall instead. We'll sit underneath the giant oak tree in front of the science hall and throw leaves at each other. We'll gaze up at the clouds and you'll  point out the one that looks like a dinosaur and I'll argue and say it's a cat.
We'll have our first kiss in the book store. Or library. Either one, since we both love reading. I'll be flipping through a book and you'll come up next to me and surprise me with a kiss.
And when winter comes around, we'll spend our free time in the campus coffee shop and talk about everything from our favorite color, to the meaning of life.
You'll call me late at night telling me to come outside because it's snowing. So I'll pull on my jacket over my pajamas and go outside my dorm and you'll pull me into the street and twirl me around


Thank you for checking out my first Features post! Please visit the galleries of these amazing artists

Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.
~E.L. Doctorow