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About Varied / Hobbyist Chloe GreyFemale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
Deviant for 4 Months
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Thats it.

This has gone on for far too long.
Look me in the eyes, and tell me you meant well.
Tell me that, how you acted was out of concern.
Tell me what you did was out of friendship.
For too long I have put up with this.
Lies. Two facedness. Treating those you claim you care about, as dirt.
It is unacceptable.

Your type has broken down my defences and gained my trust.
You've cupped my heart with your hands.
Then ripped it apart, with no care in the world.
And all of you have still had the nerve to look me in the eyes,
Filled with crocodile tears
And tell me, that this is what a friend does.

You would belittle me for not telling you the problems I have
Then tell your self made audience.
Gaining self pity and self righteousness.
I mean, you are the good guys after all.
If I wanted it broadcasted, I would go up on stage myself.
But no. For some reason, I like my privacy, as strange as that is.

Don't. You. DARE.
Stand there with your justifications
and victim cards
Your, "I know whats best" and
"I only had your well being in mind".

Is blackmail okay?
Slating me behind my back and insulting me to my face?
Trying to guilt trip me into feeling sorry for you?
Keeping me from being with those that actually care about me,
So you can remain the 'best'.

I have had enough.
I will no longer stand for this.
So continue your little games and lies
I will no longer be the fly ensnared in your web

I promise you. Next time I cross paths with someone of your kind, I will be ready.

I now know, the best way to be rid of a serpent, is to cut off its head.
In reality, no second head will grow back.

-Chloe Grey
Serpent Myth
I wrote this in the heat of the moment a couple of minutes ago.
It's a subject I've always wanted to write about, but never had any idea on how to start.
This attack has become something more.
The words I so easily deflected, have become embedded with thorns, broken glass and needles. I swear, it feels like I'm being torn apart.

Help me.

I cannot escape it. There's nowhere to run or hide.

No cover.

With flesh now exposed, the hunt is on. I have become the weak animal against this blood thirsty creature.
There's static crowding together around the edges, almost obscuring my sight. The constant movement and contrast of it is giving me a headache and it's so important that I stay alert.
I have to focus everything into acting the right way. If even my pulse flutters for just a fraction of a second, he will go for my jugular.

But it's so difficult.
It's taking all of my willpower just to keep it together.

Acid is burning my throat and nose, making it even harder to breathe. My body is already battling against me, trying to force me into hyperventilation.
It's making me light headed. Everything is appearing more sluggish by the second.
I'm tired. I could just close my eyes now and drift away. I really want to, just to have one moment, but the stakes are too high.

It'll be over soon, it'll be over soon.

Breathe in, and out, slowly.

He's getting angrier. He wants to feed.
The smell of sweat is blocking my nose.

Hold on, it's almost-

My hand twitches. A nervous tick.

It's all that's needed.


The static explodes into red smeared stars, I can't see,
Can't breathe
I can't think.

All I can do is utter the same thing over and over, in the hopes that they're the magic words to fix it all.


The stars start to still. My hands are shaking. My scalp is drenched in cold sweat.


Somehow, it's worse than the stream of ugly words.

Face screwed up in pure senseless rage, he goes for the killing blow.

My hope and bravery evaporates, leaving me with this nightmarish reality.

Something in me breaks.

I can't do this again.

I collapse onto the floor, and cover my head, almost as if praying, and I beg.
More toxic hatred, more poisonous insults. It goes on for an eternity.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it's over.


It's not the action of hitting that hurts the most. The pain subsides eventually and the wounds heal over time.

It's the shame.

Clinging onto your neck, swimming in your eyes, pin prickling across your head. It seeps into your blood stream and turns to lead.

A heavy burden never to forget.

-Chloe Grey
Bread of shame
This one is a bit more raw than I usually like to write but it's here now. I hope you enjoy.
It's an odd thing you know. The feeling of detachment.

At first, it'll be fine. Laughing, talking, dreaming, remembering. Making plans. Creating.
You'll go to bed. Maybe you'll sleep soundly, lost in the stories of your imagination. Or maybe you'll struggle, tossing and turning, waking to even the softest of touches, even the sound of a moths wing brushing against a curtain. Or the silence.

I just know that, when morning comes, the entity that found a way to cling to your heart, changes you.

You can no longer take joy in even the smallest of moments. Voices are an endless drone to get lost in. No matter how much sleep you grab, tiredness still cloaks you.
There's no moving forward. There's no moving backward. Time just...stands still.
This detachment.
It fills you with undescribable loss, that dosent feel like it's apart of you. It's just there, making it hard to see, slowing you down.

You want to leave this world. But not in the way you may think.
Not by cutting it short, permanently. No.
You want to be somewhere else. Not in the here and now.
Pack up and start new. Different faces, different adventures. Reinvent yourself until the oldness is gone.
Escape and never look back.

But there's no way to do it.
So the out of body experience continues. Everything still passes in blurs and mumbles.
Maybe you'll wake up tomorrow.

-Chloe Grey
Nobody syndrome
I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas. Or just a lovely day.

Have fun with this one.
'Is the condition of people without a permanent dwelling, such as a house or apartment. People who are homeless are most often unable to acquire and maintain regular, secure and adequate housing.'

Something I've wanted to write about, but
Have been unsure on how to begin.
I've witnessed people, full of hopes and dreams
Become crammed into countless and nameless articles and numbers,
All grouped up as voiceless, faceless ghosts.
I've read about the rash of deaths.
Not tragedy. Not mourning.
A rash.
Like a death of a soul is just a passing irritation.
Apply the cream and be done with it.

These statistics, these subjects, these petitions and social experiments
Talk about the cold logic but never the struggling heart.
They never talk about the man, living under the stars,
Who, one day, dreams of going to Spain
To see his sister dance.
There's no thoughts on the woman who was forced to bus to the hospital
after a group of lads thought it funny to set their dog on her,
Causing such serve damage, her leg had to be amputated.
No heart for the countless homeless that went without
After experiencing the hostile, us and them attitude
Directed at them.
'Worship us for we are your saviours!'
Yet countless times, the begging for their voices to be heard were ignored by these 'saviours'
No feelings for the man who lost everything and then everyone
Causing him to disappear into the heart of winter.
His companions, with mounting dread, never found him.
Because the worse thing they feared, had actually happened.

No. Instead we talk about churches
Giving crosses and Bibles
To help pray the way to food and security.
And the kindness of such large charities
That obviously have a right to charge the hungry for meals.
The rash of deaths
How unfortunate it is, that maybe it'll open our eyes.
Or maybe not.
The drugs, the theft, the drink, the bothering of the public.

The truth is,
There's a hundred things I want to say
But a million more things I dont know.
I can only try and paint the picture.
But, there is one thing I do know.
One thing I can say with certainty.
Homelessness isnt a myth.
It is real.
And so are the people.

-Chloe Grey
I've wanted to write about homelessness for a while, but every time I tired, it never seemed right.
Today I attended a fundraiser, organised by my friend, for a volunteer group that do everything in their power to help those living rough.
I finally managed to write what I wanted, and I found the courage to read it out to a live audience during a spoken word poetry session.

I do believe there's not enough care and awareness now.
Those that find themselves sleeping on the street, are people. They have families, pasts, old jobs, old loves, hopes, dreams and stories.
So it breaks my heart to see other people abuse them, or take advantage. At one point, a couple of 12 year olds were actually shocked as they thought homelessness was a myth. A story to scare them into doing well at school.

So here it is. I hope you enjoy. Love one another.
Guide my soul through this fog
I'm blind.
Brimming with molten glass,
I feel painfully dead inside.
Am I real?
Am I alive?
What is this insanity?

Tell me.

Before I die,
Do I get any last words,
A last sunrise, last raindrop, last meal?
Or not?
Will it be better that way?

No more pain, no more handling with care.
No dragging it out, just

Will it be freedom?
Or another prison?
One of my own design.

I have so many questions,
And little understanding.
All I know is
I've been halfway dead for a long time
Letting it be.
Trying to stay balanced.

I can't try anymore.
Only do.

-Chloe Grey
This was interesting to write.
I felt an urge to write and I ended up doing it all in green permanent marker, because I've tidied my pens away in a safe place.
I just can't remember where that safe place is.
So, I've listened to a song, came up with an idea and now I'm actually writing a short story. My plan is to write it in three parts. I don't plan to change it but crazier things have happened!
I have no idea when it'll be done. You'll know when I know.

All I know begins.


SleeplessSock's Profile Picture
Chloe Grey
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United Kingdom
I'm British and I like tea.


Add a Comment:
Xelador Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2017  Hobbyist
Thank you for the :+fav:'s/support.
SleeplessSock Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
It's okay. :) I really love everything you've written. You manage to express so much truth and emotion.
chriseastmids Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2017  Hobbyist Photographer
and many thanks again Chloe :glomp:
SleeplessSock Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Most welcome, I love your work. :)
chriseastmids Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2017  Hobbyist Photographer
thank you so very much :D :D
Pencil1 Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2017  Professional Traditional Artist
Thanks for the watch. :)
SleeplessSock Featured By Owner Jan 7, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome. :)
BlondTheColorist Featured By Owner Dec 17, 2016  Professional Digital Artist
Thanks for watching.
SleeplessSock Featured By Owner Dec 21, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome! :)
chriseastmids Featured By Owner Oct 23, 2016  Hobbyist Photographer
many thanks for the fave ad :glomp:
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