|Orphan Black fan art|
PlanetariumPlanetarium by Xtemporary-insanityX
There is a girl with stars in her eyes
But everything hangs in the balance
And she’s afraid to let it fall
The silver is etched into her veins
The fear that the sun won’t rise
If she doesn’t hold it on her shoulders
The most vivid sensation of being alive
When you’re afraid it will end
And suddenly, the world
Is moving too fast
Everything is too bright
I feel too in love
I’m afraid that it could all end here
A three-ring circus
Where the jugglers are your fears
And possibilities fly rampant over your head
All just out of reach
It is a beautiful sight.
In loving memory of Chandler "Chandi" Pytowski, who will shine on forever
Born 1992, died 2015, 22 years brave
TreehouseWe were pirates in the summerTreehouse by Xtemporary-insanityX
And the sky was our sea
We were fairies in the spring
And silk scarves were our wings
We were astronauts in the winter
The endless snow was the moon
And in autumn we were wild leaves
Spinning on the breeze
We were children in our travels
We were angels in our dreams
We were adventurers in our fantasies
We were afraid in our hearts
The sun would rise and we'd be sleeping
The sky would brighten and we were running
The shadows vanished and we tried to find them
The clouds turned red and we said goodbye
And time has passed
Our dreams became lies
Our stories became nostalgia
Our love became childhood
And in this maturing
We are falling leaves
Falling to the ground
But we think we're flying
A Crown of Web and Morning DewA Crown of Web and Morning Dew
For many years, or so it seems,
I've had the same recurring dream:
It starts in darkness, silence, still,
then suddenly I hear a scream.
It's muffled, so I second guess.
I lift my hem to free my dress
that I may run to find the source
of whom is in such dark distress.
The sound is distant in the night,
and waning moon gives little light.
I wonder if the cry were real
or just the wind instilling fright.
My feet move on without my will.
They lead me down a wooded hill
into a grove of Elm and Yew,
the air grown quiet, stale, and still.
At first I think I dream again,
for this is where my dreams all end,
yet as the mist rolls through the trees
I hear a slowly treading din.
I will myself to wake and rise,
but through the branches, piercing eyes
glow transfixed as I stand alone,
frozen by a shadowy guise.
I tell myself to turn and run,
to flee lest I become undone,
but then the beast steps closer still,
its eyes the light of golden suns.
Most of my work is not featured in my main gallery. Check the folders to see the majority of my work.|
I'm a writer by nature, but am also quite interested in photography, digital art, artisan crafts, and traditional mediums. I am bisexual, ENFP, spiritual and intellectual. I love hearing the stories of others even more than I enjoy writing as a way of creating my own.
Oh, and to be of note, I have used a few pen names in the past. These are: Mara David, Valerie Namida, and Hunter Tavin.