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About Deviant runn Arnaldsd&oacFemale/Iceland Recent Activity
Deviant for 6 Years
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Sunday's Cat
Sunday's cat is quiet, staring at the cemetery
watching summer dying.
Soft paws break the autumn leaves,
her tail breaks the cold sunlight
and it's October.
:icontotaarn:TotaArn 1 0
Tug at the strings
of her heart
One by one let them dance
in her chest
To the rhythm of strangers
who won't let her rest
Tug at the strings
of her heart
:icontotaarn:TotaArn 2 0
Blurry is how I see you now
behind a veil of fading memories
and rainy weather.
How easily promises are abandoned,
sweet whispers no longer words,
but reminders of lost want.
An expired guarantee
of us.
Blurry is how I see you now,
as I trace our footsteps down that one street,
lean on those doors,
stand still for a minute
and remember.
:icontotaarn:TotaArn 0 0
How quickly promises are abandoned
sweet whispers so certain
Now blurry memories
of a reality that almost was.
Your words so repeated they're
sweet nothings of never after
in my ear.
Number eight always the best
and the worst.
:icontotaarn:TotaArn 0 0
She said, pointing
A river!
Red nail polish shaking
He turned
Oh, silly me
She whispered
And wiped the river into her palm
:icontotaarn:TotaArn 3 3
So she asked Winter to hide her
cause there are no shadows in the summer
:icontotaarn:TotaArn 0 2
With bright red nails
and one hand on the wheel
she can drive to wherever
but her courage
is in the left back pocket
of her favorite pants
a thousand miles behind
:icontotaarn:TotaArn 1 5
I want
a lot of things
and more of everything
I want
what I already have
and more of what's there
I want
all there is
and what's not there
I want
materials and possessions
and things I can hold
I want
what I'll never get
and all I can have
But really
all I want
is the want
from you
:icontotaarn:TotaArn 3 5
I left
His tail wasn't still that morning
it was going full speed
as usual
Just after dawn I sat down
tried to hold him for a little while
but he didn't know
To him, this dawn was like any other;
I would come right back,
mess with his ears,
kiss his nose,
and drive to the park.
But I betrayed his day
and as I sit here I wonder;
does he know I have nothing
but the littlest of words?
A "sorry" for comfort
and his tail in my heart
:icontotaarn:TotaArn 2 12
Waiting feet
One is a farmer. Or rancher. To me it's the same. His boots are dirty and worn. Over a layer of dry mud is a fresh blanket of wet dirt. His feet are patient, both on the ground and still. A patient patient. I wonder if that miserable play on words has crossed his mind. I wonder if he even knows that he's patient. Or is is just in my head? After all, I only see his feet, he could be biting his lip.
Next to him is a pair of heels. Not so high that they are uncomfortable, but high enough to be a little painful on a long walk. The heels are crossed, and the one on top is moving. Funny how it's like that sometimes. Moving back and forth, up and down, in little circles. They're black these heels. Humble black that wouldn't be noticed in a crowd, but would make or break an outfit.
Many of the seats are emtpy, but the furthest away is occupied by little feet. Alone? Feet of about five years of age. They haven't walked far, but since they made it here, they walked far enough. Who would leave li
:icontotaarn:TotaArn 1 0
moi by TotaArn moi :icontotaarn:TotaArn 0 0
If I told you I had a story, would you listen? If I couldn't tell you, would you read it? I have stories. Long, short, funny, boring, sad, happy. A dozen stories. Thousands. Maybe a million. But these are just numbers. How do you measure a story? Where does it begin, and does it ever even have an ending? What happened before a story began and what happened after it ended? Where was I? Why are my stories final and not continuing still? Who designed the frame on my stories; why are my memories shaped in a certain way? Will you answer this for me? Will you tell me it's ok to forget some things in order to remember better things? And will you let me be angry at your words and be sad for a while when my memory betrays me?  Will you not pity me but help me remember? I want to write to you my stories, the never endings and the fuzzy beginnings, and the weathered remains of old stories past. I want to burn the frames and shapes of my stories and I need you to stand next to me in the
:icontotaarn:TotaArn 1 5


instead, instead, instead
i can't remember the last time i saw you.
instead, i trace your name
along my arm:
goosebumps like braille, raw
fingertips and
the soft side of my wrist
you've never touched.
i know me better than i know you
and i don't know me at all.
i can't remember the last time i spoke to you.
instead, i erased your number
from my phone:
i'll miss your static, my poor
reception and
pretending to have nothing to say.
you never guessed that i was penning novels
beneath my tongue.
what i do remember is
the last time i was whole:
my hand and yours
criss-crossed, entwined.
now i'm left with splintered palms and
ghosts between my fingers.
:iconmoondrums:moondrums 55 55
i never told you:
i hated the way you smelled
like winter, like
fog or listerine or
something long forgotten.
i guess i miss you the way
i miss brooklyn,
all thirsty for a song
i've never heard, pining for
a place i've never been.
i never told you:
i keep your old promises all tucked up inside,
like bruises sleeping fallow
along my hipbones.
i promise i'll love you always, i promise
i'll fix the coffee machine tomorrow,
and if you let me,
i'll fix you –

well, you never were a fixer.
what you are is tired, and you never understood
why this fucked-up little town
unmade its bed, swallowed an ambien,
swallowed you. listen:
we were always comatose, clutching
at bedsheets,
hands gone cold
and quiet.
:iconmoondrums:moondrums 99 48
november, again
sometimes, i wonder
what life would be like
if i had never taught  
my little sister how to
tie her shoes, or
if my eyes weren't brown.
maybe i would be
someone else:
the anti-me.
something, anything
this is when i'm a house of cards -
52 bones, shivering.
one blow and i'm on the ground:
realizing too late that the tulips
i planted last september
won't ever grow,
or realizing too soon that i have never
been in love.
:iconmoondrums:moondrums 31 28


:iconlistaspiran: :iconbananamon: :iconheather-chrysalis: :iconxxsmack111: :iconasa-bryndis: :iconguggus:




runn Arnaldsd&oac
Just gettin' by, one word at a time

Current Residence: Ice Country
Favourite genre of music: Country
Favourite cartoon character: Little My
Personal Quote: Be on your own
I just need to write this down: What I miss from home, in no particular order

The food
The coffee
My people
Driving a car, seriously, need this
Walking everywhere
Knowing everything
Salem Lights
Lil bro
Sitting in the kitchen at my parents house late in the evening, just listening to the washing machine, talking about life, calm
The wind howling
Driving around with my babes
Hysterical laughter
My grannies
Hot yoga
The country side

And so much more


Add a Comment:
moondrums Featured By Owner Feb 21, 2011  Student Photographer
thanks so much for the fave. (:
TotaArn Featured By Owner Feb 21, 2011
aylin-c Featured By Owner Feb 13, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
thank you for the llama.
welcome to dA :)
TotaArn Featured By Owner Feb 13, 2011
Thank you! And thanks for the llama :aww:
lyndseylou Featured By Owner Feb 8, 2011   Writer
thank you for the fav. :heart:
TotaArn Featured By Owner Feb 8, 2011
indoorfireworksxx Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2011
Thank you for the watch :hug:
TotaArn Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2011
I had to, you write beautifully :)
asa-bryndis Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2011  Hobbyist Digital Artist
H! Er bin a gera icon fyrir ig. Geri reyndar 2 tgfur, gat ekki alveg kvei hvort mr fannst betri :p annig velur bara.

1: [link]
2: [link]

Fer svo bara Settings ([link]) og ar efst paste-aru inn linkinn af iconinu. :D
TotaArn Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2011
V, g er obviously retarded, tti a vera 1 og 2...mnudagar :S
Add a Comment: