HectateNemesis

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a live by HectateNemesis, literature

The Birds and the Bees by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

The Birds and the Bees

Hot weather has come. Summer has come! And the lovely little lovelies unfasten their sepals. Their petals spring forth in bloom, swelling and flushing with color, engorged with eager expectancy, even smiling at the moon. The bee boys gather, ready to lather in pollen. Rigid with lust, they fly from their husks, their honey-cave prisons, their walls tacked with the sticky sweet memory of last summer's infidelity. They hover and buzz between the blushing flora, examining, imagining, but not conspiring. They sting in solitude; every yellow-black fellow to his own, and to each: all. Perfect gentlemen. There is no need for

I used to be unique by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

I used to be unique

I used to be unique. Kool-Aid hair dye and all. Boys wrote my name on bathrooms stalls. I swore at teachers. I drank vodka behind the bleachers. I puked at football games on cheerleaders. I had black eyes and cigarette burns and soccer thighs. I used to wear my shirt undone. I used to have fun. Now I own a 6 room house, a 4 door car, a water-dispensing fridge, bell jars. Also, religion, caffeine addiction, magazine subscriptions, diazepam prescriptions, goldfish. 900 pairs of shoes PVA glue a self-inflicted curfew sexually transmitted virtue and many, many cats. All this between walls painted in 6 muted shades of deja-

Come Home by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

Come Home

If my ceiling were a two-way mirror You would see a tangle of limbs and mouths of beer, some mine, Atop the shrine you built for me. You would see me Smiling tightly Moaning politely Under a blind black sky Although quiet inside, counting sheep, backwards. Over and under and under, but breathing, Hunting and seeking, but mostly just teething Fired by a lake of dizzy barbiturates. Your absence instigates me to recriminate. I set fire to Magnolia State and become a patch of real estate. For every one of those wiry claws there is one set of ecstatic applause. And I live to please. Because at least on my knees There are hands in

Spring by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

Spring

It all can happen in the hour Between the night and day: The dead world is brought to life As spring blisters awake. The Earth inhales, its breath a surge Through pores of ragged ice, The claws of winter thaw and loose, Surrender their device. Crystal thrones melt with the bones Of kingdoms spoiled by doom, Now ivy weaves itself around Like dressings on a wound. The sleepy Phlox also ascends, Now feels it has begun, Breaks through the gauzy sheets of snow, Climbs sun-drunk to the sun. Within an instant all the world Is changed from grey to green. Though soon is red and brown again; As it has always been. And weeping willow

Rude Awakening by HectateNemesis, literature

I did spend time by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

I did spend time

I did spend time throwing my body over couches, sighing deep from the belly to sad music and murky martinis. I was so heavy I would crash land at the bottom of long-necked bottles with red stained lips. But I have finished that crying now. I'm standing, whole, in heels, somehow. Calloused and glittering. Living. Thing. And I'm feeling rather cat-like down here off the wing. Devils have romanced angels since the beginning of time, charmed them stark raving naked in organized crime, and they've all gone tumbling down, skirts in the air, into forests of red fingernails, lost and impaired. I met some new friends there. And in

more or less by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

more or less

You will wake up in a purple dress with one stiletto dangling off the bed. The hangover is not quite as guilty without the boxers on the floor. The custom is to wake up earlier than boxer boy or brief, (depending on the club, more or less) and to venture to the kitchen. You don’t mean to wake up so early, but somehow you cannot stop thinking, planning your morning greeting (It gets easier with each visitor), deciding what more y

Coney Island by HectateNemesis, literature

Up the Skirt of a Mushroom by HectateNemesis, literature

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a live by HectateNemesis, literature

The Birds and the Bees by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

The Birds and the Bees

I used to be unique by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

I used to be unique

Come Home by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

Come Home

Spring by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

Spring

Rude Awakening by HectateNemesis, literature

I did spend time by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

I did spend time

more or less by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

more or less

Coney Island by HectateNemesis, literature

Up the Skirt of a Mushroom by HectateNemesis, literature

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Smartbomb by TheOmegaPoint, literature

Literature

Smartbomb

Never, ever make intelligent munitions. I think that is probably the primary Rule of warfare. At least it should be. Sure, one might argue that is a decided Post-modern concern, but really, Intelligence is relative... Corpses are not likely to mind Being hurdled, plague-ridden Into the midst of opposition. While, strangely enough, semi-aquatic Landing craft loads of soon-to-be corpses Tend to be less cooperative. That being said, some modicum Of military intelligence Is required for even the briefest campaigns. When effectively employing any weapon, Someone has to aim the damn thing And strategically position fod

beekeeper by katesaidhi, literature

Literature

beekeeper

during the honey-making process, do you prioritize flavor, consistency, or longevity? back at the beehive, where it all began, we finally meet each other after the parting almost immediately, the words i have been collecting for three days start to seep out of the corners of my mouth like crystallized sap or ancient honey if you'll gently recall: not too long ago, they held meaning and intent and resolve; Now, they force their shape into a sweet, drooling rosary down my black pointed chin. Note: Stored properly, honey can last several years. i want retract dem words, lickum back into my mouth but they're stuck until you get rid of

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pruning by HectateNemesis, literature

Literature

pruning

We were thirty-eight at seventeen Here, We live from cigarette to cigarette. Elsewhere, Some of us are fighting wars. Some of us are jarring bells. Some of us are collecting shells. The rest of us are sleeping, dreaming about everything. We would get up, We would cry help But our pillows are scented With bedspreads of one-million-thread-count Egyptian cotton. My God We are almost rotten. It's so hard to see the top from the bottom. We could cry help. We would get up. But we are already forty-something. and I think we've forgotten.

pruning

HectateNemesis

About HectateNemesis

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Artist

Canada
Deviant for 19 years
She / Her

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My Bio

Current Residence: a mansion with my highschool loves
Favourite photographer: miles aldridge
Favourite style of art: fashion
Shell of choice: selectively permeable
Skin of choice: virgin
Favourite cartoon character: dark-wing duck
Personal Quote: here comes twinkle fuck toes

Favourite Movies

american beauty, american psycho, fight club, dogville, zoolander, star wars

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

amos, dillinger, volta, hendrix, soad, shostakovich, prokofiev

Favourite Writers

T S Elliot, barth, emerson, hawthorne, king

Favourite Games

zoomer man hunt

Other Interests

literature, substance abuse, people, travel, psychology, religion

Posts

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HectateNemesis

Oct 5, 2006

advice to fellow travellers

0 min read

never take the mother fucking greyhound

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HectateNemesis

May 10, 2006

what was his problem?

0 min read

that guy was a bit of a douche bag who's to say that there is no point and the only smart ones were the people who blow there brains out (kinda makes you wish he was smarter) anyways I'll get you your new password G

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HectateNemesis

May 9, 2006

A little change

0 min read

Maybe you're a little more intelligent then most the kids at you're high school. So you didnt ignorantly fall head on into simplistic materialism, but you fell right into another trap. Then you go and fuck yourself up so much that when the time comes you will have no ability to transcend. Poetry is only disguises your feelings with flowery rhetoric. Simple aesthetics only hold you, because they attatch to some part of your subconscious self you dont truly understand. In the end you will be in the same place you started from. Its not good enough to just know how you feel. To transcend your state you have to learn. Try to learn the nature of th