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About Varied / Hobbyist Adrien ValjeanMale/Zimbabwe Recent Activity
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Literature
Persephone
I was broken by you; clean shaven, standing there behind the garden gate in your braces and shirtsleeves. Your mouth parted as you hid shyly among the thick flora that bloomed as a soft spring in your irises. My vision was flooded by pink and at the crook of your neck there was a scent of saffron. There was a moth in your thick, silvery hair as your hand met mine through the bars of cold, prison-like iron. Somewhere I could hear that a fountain trickled. When our lips met, I wanted to suck on your fingernails like pomegranate seeds as though three months were worth a single day.
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Literature
Le Voyeur
The receiver is pressed to my ear as
my mind wanders.
He runs a hand through his greying hair.
Sweat pools in the dip of his clavicle
and his eyes ask questions
without answers
from under thick lashes that tangle
together like lovers.
His teeth are dark but beautiful
and I kiss him on the mouth anyway.
I blink and he is gone.
But his voice is clear and deep in my ear.
"Hello? Are you still there?" He asks.
My brain hums softly inside of my skull,
radiating warmth until
I hear the TV in the background,
the rustling of paper,
the startling laugh of a woman,
and a slight, delicious intake of breath
from lips I imagined to be soft and pliant.
My mind glazes over.
There are tears in my eyes.
I hang up the phone
and I clean the shame from my guilty fingers.
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Literature
The prisoner (ENG)
I breathe last night’s dust like cocaine.
I am drunk on you,
on the lustres of gold in your hazel eyes,
on the softness of the springtime flower petals
in your hair, on the traces of an ancient
lullaby in your voice. Kiss me warmly,
and I will steal you into the night, our eyes
broken fragments of the moon. Dream of
me in your sporadic fever-dream and tell
me you love me against my dead lips.
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Sketchdump 2 :iconmybaehugh:mybaehugh 0 0 Sketch dump 1 :iconmybaehugh:mybaehugh 1 0
Literature
V.
His astral presence
never fails to floor me,
tongue in my ear
when I am trying to think.
He consumes everything
green coattails dragging behind him
and don’t dare say his name,
he will turn around,
like the sun turning its
face towards the earth,
and you will fall in love with
the stars in his eyes and the
cosmos in his throat.
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Literature
IV.
he is the seafarer in his
soul but a siren relaxes on the rocky
peaks of his gaze.
she leans over to whisper in my
ear, through the sweet sounds of crashing
waves. her sweet note embraces
me, hotly. the candle in our
room does not flicker.
She beckons me closer with an ancient
hymn, opening her
legs and I cannot help but stare at the
vein that travels down his thick
arm. a great wave roars in the
distance and I cannot bear the
look in his eyes any longer. there is a great
wave over me and I want to make love to the
turmoil.
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Lui :iconmybaehugh:mybaehugh 2 0
Literature
I give up
Gift me with your stare,
hazel and warm,
reminiscent of memory, that languid summer
and the scent of watercress
as I stared out of my window at night.
I would steal the flecks of gold
from the forest of your irises,
I would pin them to my ceiling
and maybe they would glow for me as do the stars.
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Drawing exercises :iconmybaehugh:mybaehugh 0 0
Literature
Le Prisonnier
Je respire la poussière d'hier
comme de la cocaïne.
Je suis ivre de toi, les lustres d'or
dans tes yeux marron et clairs,
la douceur des feuilles des fleurs
du printemps dans tes cheveux,
une chanson comme une ancienne berceuse
dans tes mots.
Embrasse-moi chaudement
et je vais te voler, partageons
la nuit, nos yeux comme des morceaux fracturés
de la lune. Rêve de moi dans ta fièvre
sporadique et dites-moi que tu m'aimeras
toujours contre mes lèvres mortes.
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Literature
La Priere
Je rêve d'un certain cercle
D'enfer.
Tu es à la fois juge et jury
Et moi,
Je m'agenouille devant toi
Et je mendie, je mendie
Pour la punition,
Je prie pour tu me fouetter
Sur la dos.
C'est mon purgatoire.
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Literature
Je te tire, je te tire
Je te tire, je te tire,
Il doit être douloureux
Mais mon cœur est surgelé
Sous une rivière et mon cerveau
Est perdu dans une forêt noire.
Il est aussi douloureux
Et quand j'hurle dans la nuit pour tes lèvres
Et j'étouffe sur du sang
Je ne me sens plus si mal.
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Comic poster 1 :iconmybaehugh:mybaehugh 4 0 Le Chasseur Souix :iconmybaehugh:mybaehugh 5 0 Le meurtre et l'amour :iconmybaehugh:mybaehugh 3 0

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Adrien Valjean
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
Zimbabwe
I'm Adrien. I'm a bilingual artist from Kalamazoo.
I get it, my last name is weird. No, I am not related to a fictional character.
I like a good dark beer and I hate to draw, but I do it anyway.
I post when I get new ideas. If you decide to follow me, thanks a bunch.
Interests
  • Listening to: The fan
  • Reading: academic texts
  • Watching: nothing
  • Playing: Overwatch
  • Eating: crisps
  • Drinking: only water, ever
literally no one fuckin reads these lmao

Comments


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:iconshining-scribe:
Shining-Scribe Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Greetings! Welcome to :iconpoetic-poetry:, and thank you for choosing to join us. I hope our group will give you a chance to meet many other writers, enjoy many new styles and, most importantly, blossom and flourish as both a writer and a member of DA. :) (Smile)
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