~aknotts

Alice Knotts

Profile

Gallery

Prints

Faves

Journal

About Me Member Deviant of Many Talents aknottsFemale/United States

Recent Activity Deviant for 10 Months
Needs Premium Membership

Statistics 17 Deviations
34 Comments
318 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

Picking Up The PiecesThe skin of her hands is puckered and, despite her pale colouring, tinged grey by the basin of dirty liquid in which she continues to dip them. Beneath the surface of the water, she runs a thumb over the curved girth and handle of a coffee mug, presses the tips of her fingers within it to soften the stains. She runs the cup under fresh water before setting it inside of the dishwasher beside her leg. Meticulously, she removes the harder grit beneath the water, rinses, places away a cup; so absorbed in her actions, she doesn't hear the ringing bell as someone walks into the shop or the muffle of their his feet as he approaches the counter. She Picking Up The Pieces
by ~aknotts

street rats are prophetsWhen you know the pattern of grit on the sidewalk better than your mother's smile, and the dirt beneath your nails and epidermis is as common as your shakes, then you've probably found an answer in the wrinkles of Lincoln's copper face, or overheard the cockroaches whisper to each other as they crawl street rats are prophets
by ~aknotts

untitledI wish I had an auto setting, equipped only with essential functions and emotions not included- because thinking too much makes me cry and I turn my words around and inside out to the point that they've lost their definitions and their colour and I might as well be speaking Greek or Latin, since we're both a little dead on the inside. untitled
by ~aknotts

Peter Pan"I suppose it's the idea of forgetting. He doesn't seem to realize that she's growing whenever he comes to get her. There are gaps of years where he forgets to come and retrieve her for spring cleaning. And then he comes for her when she is older and married, and my eyes become wet, and insists she goes with him because he has forgotten, he has no sense of her time. And he cries and I cry, and we cry together because mothers aren't suppose to deny you anything are they? But he replaces her with Jane and Jane with Margaret and the rest of them so easily, a new mother every spring, but why can't I! He takes Jane as if Wendy is Peter Pan
by ~aknotts

Browse Gallery

Favourites

warm sweet
by =FikreesProjects

The Pursuit
by =jonnygoodboy

The Gift
by *0Effe0

The Fairy Tree
by *DemonMathiel

Browse Favourites

Watchers

*XIVcaliber

~jkandsquirrelze

That's what dreamers do...

Thu Jun 18, 2009, 10:48 AM

I had the most amazing dream last night. But I can't, for the life of me, remember the monologue that went along with it.

There was a boy and a girl, in love. I want to call them Romeo and Juliet, but I distinctly remember the name Alice or Allison in my dream. So Romeo and Alice... Maybe the dream symbolises how love starved I am.

Before the dream started, the couple had been fighting. The boy went around a school looking for her and found her on a swingset. There was a bit of trying to get away on her part but eventually they reconciled and walked along the park of the school, holding hands. She got back on the swingset and he pushed her for a while before going to talk to his friends, which I guess made her angry because she left the park and somehow ended up instantly at her house. He tried to follow her, yelling at her to come back. She went through the backdoor to avoid her father, stepping around several cats and went searching for her rabbit. It was either a dwarf rabbit or a baby bunny, because she pictured it to be tiny, white with large brown spots and droopy ears.

But I woke up before she found it. I knew that if she did, she wouldn't find it alive.

The monologue that I want to remember was something about silence. Suffering in silence, being silent, reveling in the silence. I may remember later, which is why I made this journal, so that I can see it constantly and maybe remember the monologue quicker. I apologize for it being a bit boring.

No Comments | Previous Journal Entries