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About Varied / Student Tomas KrystinikMale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 8 Years
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Literature
There's No Sound In The Vacuum (Welcome Home)
There's no sound in the vacuum.
No music. No laughter. No cries of joy.
No hope.
Only darkness, and reminders that this is home.
That all roads lead back to where you began, so you can begin again.
Another road trip, another voyage, hands and knees grasping at sand as the quiet siren pulls you back in.
Another long walk down a road to nowhere, another attempt to fill that hole with something, another grim realization that it's a hole shaped just like you, and you're the only one in it.
The fact there are a million holes like yours brings little comfort in time.
Time ticks by but you learn to embrace the ignorance. After all, time means nothing in the vacuum.
You put your all into it, you try your best, you put yourself out there for all to see, lain bare, and your efforts are proven again to be wasted.
For none within reach see you, and none who see you are within reach.
And so you claw at the walls of your prison, scratching poems and lyrics against the walls of your cell.
You listen
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Literature
Imbalance Clawing Out
I can feel you inside me
Squirming around in my head
It seems like you clawed free
Your prison, my belfry
But you lost before
And you'll lose again
We both know for sure
How this all will end
You are insecure
You are weak, you bend
You are not quite sure
What message to send
You scream in agony
But no one is listening
For you fear to lose
Every single friend
In silence they avoid
You've lost too many
Now you're paranoid
You're the part of me
I wish I could tear out
You're my corrupted core
My anachronistic trend
You're what makes me weak
That much is for sure
Yet without you I'd be incomplete
But I will always win
My true self, unspoken
Fade back away again
You're broken
But you're still unsatisfied
You bloom in dead flowers
You clawed free for hours
A burning of darkness
An end for the recess
The agony of rebirth
For how little it's worth
I went so far only to return
Here we are again
I guess in the bitter end
You're my first and saddest friend
You make me human
But you're not, you kn
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Literature
The Man And The Conclusion
The man finally stood alone with himself, at the edge of everything.
It was just out of sight down the left path at the fork he had seen through the barricade he had made and destroyed, a detour from the road he would have to walk.
The road stretched forever onward from the right path at that fork, awaiting him as it always had, free of fog, but he couldn't continue.
Not until he'd freed himself of one final burden.
He had to unload the third wheel inside him before its duality destroyed his own.
In his arms he held, bundled in an old musty bedspread, the missing pieces he'd sought.
The version of himself that had died inside, but had to live.
The parasite that was his past self still clinging to him, still draining him every step of the way.
He didn't care for the way it tore at him from inside, its disease incurable and its vengeance upon the world around it long since resolved.
There was a river here, a pool in time.
The river would carry it into memory, and in time, where all thing
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Literature
'Hello Me, It's Us' AOSOV Album #0, Song 5
[spoken]Hello me, it's us.[spoken]
At the center of it all?
It's me.
Why did I have to let it all
Fog up and decay?
Day by day by bitter day,
We thought the scars would fade.
But they never completely faded away.
Year by year by wasted year,
We existed without life in painful fear.
Get away.
Get away from... us.
Pushed away,
Pushed away,
Pushed the whole wide world away from... us.
But now it's obvious.
Yeah, now we finally see.
At the center of the hole in our heart...
It's just the old me.
Hello me, it's us.
You were the first and weakest version,
Now you're dust.
You were abused,
Yeah you got used,
It wasn't fair.
She never truly cared.
Neither did they,
But that's okay.
It turns out life is just like that anyway.
You were infested with parasitic people.
They were stupid, they were young, or they were evil,
And you were mistreated.
But all your demons have been defeated.
You needed walls to hide away.
So you built too many walls.
And we're still tearing them down today.
Something we
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Literature
Libations at the Brink
Welcome to the brink
Sit down and have a drink
Order yourself a beer
As everything that you hold dear
Slowly slips away
Hope that that’s okay
Or maybe a sip of wine
As you witness your decline
A bottle of brandy
Might just come in handy
When you lose your mind
If you’re the brandy kind
Alcohol numbs the pain
While you go insane
Just so that we’re clear
Anyone leaving here
Either goes back whence they came
Else they take the only train
Jumping off the tracks
Then there’s no turning back
Slowly they’ll descend
Into a pit that never ends
So here’s hoping you’re the former
Alcohol makes you feel warmer
While you decide where to go
Just thought you should know
This is the point of no return
Hopefully you have learned
That you’re starting to sink
So welcome to the brink
Welcome to the brink
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Literature
The Sun and The Fire, an extended cautionary rhyme
Lessons important yelled the sun,
Yelling at nearly no one,
Cause nearly no one was listening.
Too busy with missing
The point of it all.
It's all gonna fall.
Cause the foundation is flawed.
And they care more about their god
Than they do their own neighbor
Who helps them, does their labor,
While they bask in the glow
Of the sun's patient flow.
But he's sick of the way
We been treating that flame.
No, kid, this ain't no game,
The sun's fading away.
Time ticks today.
But he's too much to say,
And you ain't hearing him
Through your blindfolded delirium.
Crack an ear through the wax,
Listen dear, to the max.
Cause he's not playing around,
When his light refined hits the ground
Everything that is will evaporate.
You cling to your book,
Did you read it?
You swear in court that you need it.
Didn't learn any lesson,
Just used it as a weapon
To oppress and conform.
To the lies of others you swarmed.
You missed the point of what you're quoting,
Missed the boat, now you're noting
That it's hard
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Literature
The Free Fall
I once stood at the edge of myself.
It was the moment I first knew I was not the me I wanted, and what being that me would cost.
What I would have to give up to be that me,
To breathe through their lungs, to see through their eyes, to find that me in the mirror each morning.
I thought about the price I'd pay, to be that me.
And I thought, for a moment, about raising my arms,
Like wings behind me,
And falling free into the me that I had found.
I thought of feeling the world with different hands,
Feeling trees and grass on different ground,
Feeling different feet upon different lands.
A different path down different roads,
And how I would walk if that path I chose.
I thought for a moment about the free fall.
I thought of what it would be like, all in all.
I thought, for a moment, about where I'd land,
And who I'd be,
And what I'd be, when I became that me.
I stood, for that moment, at the edge that divides us, that me and I.
The person I am, and the person I could have been.
But to be th
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Literature
'You Must Have' AOSOV Album #0, Song 4
You…
Must have dug a deep hole,
That grew and grew,
And you were eaten by a mole.
That’s…
The only the only thing I could think of,
To explain why you vanished
So completely, my love.
You…
Must have lost your eyes and ears,
So when I called and wrote,
You couldn’t see or hear.
That’s…
The only validation, cause,
Otherwise there’s no excuse,
For what you’ve done.
Everything was going fine,
We had a lot of fun.
The most fun that I think I’ve had,
Since we watched the setting sun.
Cause you…
Completed everything I was.
Then you vanished into thin air…
Simply just because.
You…
Must have torn a hole,
In the time space continuum,
That swallowed your soul!
It’s
The only excuse I could find,
That would keep me from losing,
My mother quacking mind.
So many before you,
So many still since,
Have left without a word,
Without recompense.
But you…
You hurt me the most.
Cause you made me feel precious,
Then mad
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Literature
Life Is A Mixed Bag, spontaneous poetry
"Life is a mixed bag", spontaneous poetry by Tomas Krystinik, 2/16/2016, 2:52pm.
Life's a mixed bag. You put everything you have in it and then when you really, really need something you go fishing around in it trying to find that one right thing, pulling out wrong thing after wrong thing, sometimes it's a handful of broken glass and that's a whole mess you have to deal with, but sometimes you find that right thing. It's usually the last thing you pull out of the bag, and by the time you find it, you aren't sure why you wanted it anymore. So you put it all back in, and as soon as it's all back in there, you remember why you wanted that one thing, so you stick your hand back in. Life's a mixed bag.
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Valenfines 2017 by masterwriter42 Valenfines 2017 :iconmasterwriter42:masterwriter42 0 0
Literature
When The Sword Arm Burns
When all hope is shattered,
When all strength is gone,
When wisdom has failed us,
And sparks have moved on,
When the sun flees the sky for fear of the night,
When the moon follows suit and the stars do take flight,
In darkness eternal my sword arm shall burn.
This lesson countless times I have learned.
Torn free from its flesh, blindingly bright,
And from its extension, an unyielding might.
When my legs grow weak, its beak is my cane.
When my eyes swell shut from tears, it sees clear from my brain.
When my mouth starts to quiver, its warmth keeps me sane.
For I bare the Phoenix, when naught else remains.
When it cries out, cries of others are heard,
For the Phoenix it flocks, that undying bird.
It ushers me forward, when I feel I'm alone,
Bound by my finger, talon clutching my bone.
When I die on the inside, it burns through my chest,
Til I can no longer contain it, then its wings do the rest.
I am forced to fly higher, above dirt, trees, and ash,
But some day it will roost, and then d
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Literature
A Hope Poem by Tomas Krystinik
[This is not a love poem, it is a hope poem. Strange, this concept, hope. Stranger still this thing that is poetry. I feel it is worth abandoning my instinct to rhyme, my fear of sharing what I have found, and my shyness. I will gamble this, in hope that my smile is matched. I feel it is worth sharing, that it might reach someone and brighten their day, because that's what hope does. I hope that someone is you.]
A Hope Poem, by Tomas Krystinik.
I met someone at the finest closed coffee bar, who I barely know, and yet I see in her so many things familiar.
She is brilliant. She shines, despite pains she has survived.
She is healing. She is a breath of fresh air in the miasma of the world.
She is blindingly bright, yet pleases the eyes, mind and being where some would stun them.
She is a brilliant star in a sky the other stars have fallen from.
She is distant yet amazing. A rose of blue with thorns that keep the mind at bay, while spellbinding it with an inner spark.
Just being near that
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Literature
The Missing Piece Of The Man
The machine pulsated, and the fog grew thinner with each session. It wasn't gone, but the man could see through it now. It had lowered, and in the absence, the man had found many thing. At first, he couldn't tell what was what, but with time, as the machine repaired connections in his mind, he came to understand. He saw his demons, which he fought along the way. He'd renewed his hope and it shielded him from himself. The blade in his hand was sharper than it had been. He cut through the vines and he cut through the weeds, he cut through the storm and the words and the deeds. He saw his oldest memories, which he'd lost and forgotten he'd lost because they'd been gone so long. But he found something else, too. Something that didn't fit, that was different. Something that only now made sense. Amid the wreckage and the chaos, the static and the voids, the man found a bed. His bed, from ages ago. And on that bed, wrapped in blankets until none of him could be seen, was a young teenager. The
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Literature
The Machine Reminds Us
The machine likes to send us little reminders that our enslavement to its churning is somehow rewarded. That our addictions are justified. That the over-dependence and blind ignorance of others is just business. That it is a happy place, and not one that helped mankind sink one step closer to an abyss it dug. We click like on things we have no opinion on, and type lol when we're not laughing. We turn in the machine and with us turn the cogs around us. Cogs so rarely understand the machine they're a part of. It's not their job to understand. It's their job to turn. Thus breathes the behemoth, growing still. Its veins invade our veins. Its eyes blind our eyes. Its deception is impeccable and we can no sooner stop what we helped start than we could hold the sun in the sky that it never set, and with each case the long dark night awaiting us is full of traps we've been politely encouraged to ignore on our ceaseless march through the woods. We smile with our emojis and turn off our flashlig
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Literature
History of Selves
When I was seven years old I knew who I was. I looked in the mirror and saw myself. I'd been told all my life I was exactly who I seemed to be, and I believed them. Life was simple, and I understood. I wanted to help people, but my selfishness meant I more often than not didn't. I wanted toys, I got toys, and it wasn't so much the playing with them that mattered, it was the fact I'd wanted them and gotten them. I enjoyed swimming and the aquarium and I had friends. I went to school because that's what you do, and I thought I was happy. That's what life was. I was a seven year old boy and everything made sense. I hadn't even died for the first time, yet. That old familiar feeling.
When I was thirteen, I was changing, but I knew who I was. I'd been told my whole life and while I was starting to rebel against what I was told, I believed I was who I thought I was. Life was getting more complicated but I still understood. The weight of my first death hadn't sunken in yet and I'd yet to die
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Truth In Advertising by masterwriter42 Truth In Advertising :iconmasterwriter42:masterwriter42 0 0
Here's what I've been up to lately.

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What beautiful places this artist must have been to capture such vivid, wonderful images on the canvas. Though not the main focus, the ...

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Tomas Krystinik
Artist | Student | Varied
United States
I prefer to speak of myself in abstract poems. Direct descriptions vary as I am ever changing, and my natural state of flux makes defining myself in concrete terms difficult. Quite fond of pigeons, vegan sushi, and long romantic walks with other weirdos under a blood red moon while azure apparitions dance fanatically across the shattered sky.
Interests

Activity


Happy Pride Month 2017 everyone. Love Is Love, and love is a power that can revolutionize the world. For those who've come before and those who's day has yet to come, we must fight for a world that embraces love and equality. I'm Proud to be pansexual, but even if I was straight, I'd be still be fighting this fight as an ally. I've known so many wonderful people who've, over time, opened my eyes to the simple truth that we are all one people inside, that we are all worthy of love and respect. And if that's not something worth defending, nothing is. So cherish the bonds you've formed, and if you're single like me, just know that some day you'll find someone that makes you truly happy and vice versa. Peace and love, folks, whoever you are, wherever you are.
  • Listening to: Tegan And Sara
  • Reading: The Mabinogion: The Red Book of Hergest
  • Watching: Revolutionary Girl Utena
  • Playing: Magical Diary (Horse Hall)
  • Eating: some sort of crunch wheat stick things
  • Drinking: Kava
There's no sound in the vacuum.
No music. No laughter. No cries of joy.
No hope.
Only darkness, and reminders that this is home.
That all roads lead back to where you began, so you can begin again.

Another road trip, another voyage, hands and knees grasping at sand as the quiet siren pulls you back in.
Another long walk down a road to nowhere, another attempt to fill that hole with something, another grim realization that it's a hole shaped just like you, and you're the only one in it.
The fact there are a million holes like yours brings little comfort in time.
Time ticks by but you learn to embrace the ignorance. After all, time means nothing in the vacuum.
You put your all into it, you try your best, you put yourself out there for all to see, lain bare, and your efforts are proven again to be wasted.
For none within reach see you, and none who see you are within reach.

And so you claw at the walls of your prison, scratching poems and lyrics against the walls of your cell.
You listen in the night, but hear nothing.
Sometimes they let you out on the leash, away from your words, but at the end of the day, you'll find yourself rereading them again and realizing nothing has changed.
No matter how much progress you make, you walk alone. And you walk in circles. The laps are long, and your feet are aching.
The long and winding roads all lead back home.

"Welcome home to the void." you tell yourself, and in response, hang your head. "It's been a while," you say aloud, the sound going nowhere, "but time is meaningless here." You know the truth of your own words but you deny them again, because you've heard them too many times.
You stare out at the road. You stare at the starless sky. You pack your bags and try once more, because you always get back up.
You always try just one more time to get somewhere. To forge a new path in hopes of breaking through.
You sing your songs, you hum the tune, you laugh your little laugh that isn't laughter, you play a drum made of your heart and hope it is heard...

But there's no sound in the vacuum.
No music.
No laughter.
No cries of joy.
No hope.
Only darkness and reminders.
Welcome home to the void within you.
I can feel you inside me
Squirming around in my head
It seems like you clawed free
Your prison, my belfry
But you lost before
And you'll lose again
We both know for sure
How this all will end
You are insecure
You are weak, you bend
You are not quite sure
What message to send
You scream in agony
But no one is listening
For you fear to lose
Every single friend
In silence they avoid
You've lost too many
Now you're paranoid

You're the part of me
I wish I could tear out
You're my corrupted core
My anachronistic trend
You're what makes me weak
That much is for sure
Yet without you I'd be incomplete
But I will always win
My true self, unspoken
Fade back away again
You're broken
But you're still unsatisfied

You bloom in dead flowers
You clawed free for hours
A burning of darkness
An end for the recess
The agony of rebirth
For how little it's worth
I went so far only to return
Here we are again
I guess in the bitter end
You're my first and saddest friend

You make me human
But you're not, you knew it
You monster, inside me
Harmless, yet empty
A curse birth put on me
A hex, you complete me

My antithesis reflection
My endless loop and ending
Imbalanced, completely
You ruin my clean streak
I feel neutral, screaming
You drove me to such things
I can't take back any
But you're a part of me
Start acting like it please
When I slip, you break free
You're corrupt chemistry
But nothing can fix me
Just burn up on entry
If I had unlimited resources, I would get Suda 51, Sweary65, Hideo Kojima, Steven Lynch, Bruce Campbell, Junji Ito, M. Night Shyamalon and Studio Gainax together to create an original intellectual property and put it on the market. Doesn't matter to me what media it takes place in, the result would be the same. Be glad I do not have unlimited resources, because the resulting product would be so weird and awesome that all of existence would cease to be. It would destroy the Time-Cool-Continuum.
  • Listening to: Nothing
  • Reading: Nothing
  • Watching: Nothing
  • Playing: Persona 5
  • Eating: Nothing
  • Drinking: Magic Hat "Wilhelm Scream" Pumpkin Ale
The man finally stood alone with himself, at the edge of everything.
It was just out of sight down the left path at the fork he had seen through the barricade he had made and destroyed, a detour from the road he would have to walk.
The road stretched forever onward from the right path at that fork, awaiting him as it always had, free of fog, but he couldn't continue.
Not until he'd freed himself of one final burden.
He had to unload the third wheel inside him before its duality destroyed his own.
In his arms he held, bundled in an old musty bedspread, the missing pieces he'd sought.
The version of himself that had died inside, but had to live.
The parasite that was his past self still clinging to him, still draining him every step of the way.
He didn't care for the way it tore at him from inside, its disease incurable and its vengeance upon the world around it long since resolved.

There was a river here, a pool in time.
The river would carry it into memory, and in time, where all things eventually dissolve.
This was the conclusion he hadn't known he'd been waiting for ever since that day.
They were together in this act, in the end.
The man of flesh and the man of stars could no longer tell each other apart.
In the waters surface he only saw his own face, and a delivery of things best left forgotten.
They had made it past the point of no return, past the fog he'd promised this ancient part of himself he'd carry it through, and while there were many pits and traps along the road ahead, he had to wander it alone.
But this was where he left the puzzle behind, broken pieces and all.
He simply didn't need it anymore.

It was time to cut the cord of his true anchor, before it dragged him down again.
The man knelt down and lowered the twitching, writhing, echoing bedspread into the cold, unforgiving water.
His hands let go, and a part of him, the part that couldn't leave the past, returned to it.
It was better this way, he was sure of it.
He wasn't sure of much anymore, but this... this felt right.
Standing, the man swept his hair and tears out of his eyes and walked back the short path to the fork, and set off down the other road towards the unknown, unknowable future.
The man didn't know where his road would take him, or for how long before it too came to an abrupt end.
He didn't have a map or a compass but he had stars to guide him.
He didn't know who he'd encounter along the way, or if they'd be friend or foe, whether they'd walk with him or be another burden.
In the long run, it didn't matter, as long as he kept walking.
But, at least for now... he didn't need abstraction anymore, and so it abruptly stopped.
Happy Pride Month 2017 everyone. Love Is Love, and love is a power that can revolutionize the world. For those who've come before and those who's day has yet to come, we must fight for a world that embraces love and equality. I'm Proud to be pansexual, but even if I was straight, I'd be still be fighting this fight as an ally. I've known so many wonderful people who've, over time, opened my eyes to the simple truth that we are all one people inside, that we are all worthy of love and respect. And if that's not something worth defending, nothing is. So cherish the bonds you've formed, and if you're single like me, just know that some day you'll find someone that makes you truly happy and vice versa. Peace and love, folks, whoever you are, wherever you are.
  • Listening to: Tegan And Sara
  • Reading: The Mabinogion: The Red Book of Hergest
  • Watching: Revolutionary Girl Utena
  • Playing: Magical Diary (Horse Hall)
  • Eating: some sort of crunch wheat stick things
  • Drinking: Kava

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:iconcupnoodlesguy:
CupNoodlesGuy Featured By Owner Jan 14, 2017
Thank you for the fave.
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muzski Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks by muzski
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CourtneyVillain Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2012
I'm a squid-flavored muffin assassin and I'm coming for u tonight :x

Lol thx for the badge and the faves ;p
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CourtneyVillain Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2012
Everyone Tom here has genital warts from a squid ;p
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saurien Featured By Owner Aug 28, 2011
Thank you for the favs! :D
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Jemmeh Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2010  Professional General Artist
Comment, comment.
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masterwriter42 Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2010  Student General Artist
:O
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SilverDragon90 Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2009  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Welcome to DA
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