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About Literature / Hobbyist see-kon-sooFemale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
Deviant for 11 Years
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Anata wa Cinderella desu-ka?
Tokyo Toritsu Hibiya Kotogakko, also known as 'Hibiya High School' was often hailed as the best high school in Japan. At its peak 194 of its students gained admission to the prestigious University of Tokyo. On April fifth every year without fail Hibiya opened its doors for the new school year, treating its students to the splendid sight of the enormous sakura trees that littered the school grounds. For the first few days of the term it was traditional for newer students to get lost, appearing several minutes late with a red face and sakura petals in their hair.
On the twentieth of April, 2007, Azusa Minami overlaid.  Swearing several times under her breath, she flew out of bed and rifled through several boxes positioned in the right hand corner of her room. The boxes were tightly sealed with parcel tape and labelled 'Azusa's stuff-keep out' in black marker.
Azusa's father held a stockbroker job in the capital and, when the family were situated in Osaka, commuted into work. As a result
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Miku 4 by nsikhonsou Miku 4 :iconnsikhonsou:nsikhonsou 1 0 Miku 3 by nsikhonsou Miku 3 :iconnsikhonsou:nsikhonsou 1 0 Miku 2 by nsikhonsou Miku 2 :iconnsikhonsou:nsikhonsou 0 0 Miku 1 by nsikhonsou Miku 1 :iconnsikhonsou:nsikhonsou 1 0
Ballad of a piece of Silver
Oh Pot
I'm glad
You called me black
For now
I know
I'm perfect
And every imperfection
That I thought
Was mine
Was merely
Your reflection
Oh Pot
I'm glad
You called me black.
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Quite Contrary
If I am you then what is ‘me‘?
Could you find me
In the solid verbs of
A hissing bee?
The poisoned dreams
Of forget me not lilies.
The frozen hue
Of a whistling sea -
Immobilised for all to see.
When I am you I lose
Those foolish dreams.
I used to be
A solid ray of moonshine
Dancing on a violent sea.
You couldn’t see
Me weeping
In your own reality.
Handcuffed to the question
That is you
Is it me?
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Miss Mary
Little Miss Mary
Your flowers are dead
Their petals are rotten
There are thorns in their beds.
Dancing the waltz
In a dull petticoat
Your feet, they are bleeding
But stop - no, you wont.
Little Miss Mary
I’ve long wondered how
It was you stopped laughing
And fell to the ground.
Only to jump to your feet
And to dance
The song of the graveyard
The death of your plants.
You shattered the faces
Of those you loved first
Tear stains and bruises
But yours is the worst.
The face of a woman
Who sings in the dark
Over and over
Of the death of her heart.
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Is there anybody
Out there
Who would not
And smell the
Into the
How it felt  
To watch
The world sit
swimming -
With a paintbrush
In their hand.
Their toes
into the sand
Head high and
Of mermaids.
Is there anyone there
Who would not
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On Christmas Eve
It all started the week before Christmas Eve, a bracing, slippery December morning. The interval between heavy snow and pouring rain, in which breathing itself was an intake of chill.
Tying her scarf the way she always did, she was not unaffected by this change in atmosphere - after all, a cold or a flu virus is a most unattractive thing. But, as she stepped onto the luridly painted bus and reaching out to pay her fare, those kind of thoughts were immediately swept aside and replaced with ones of her destination.
There was a book store in town that up until the fifties had been a tea shop. In her youth, she had visited with her grandmother and been treated to cream tea and scones. Now that she herself was a grandmother, it was a great comfort to revisit and find it relatively unchanged. The young man who owned it upon her return had inserted labyrinthine bookshelves around her beloved tea shop, filled with masterpieces. His dream, he once told her over a cup of chamomile, was to be the
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Transparent, with no finger tips,
Man made you
Just to be
And so I wonder
When was I
By this mechanical Eden?
Though scentless,
Without a soul
And no door to walk inside,
I am sheltered
Within this paradise
Of artifice.
:iconnsikhonsou:nsikhonsou 1 0
Wuthering Heights
I'm not asleep
And yet I'm here
Watching you
Watching me.
We're standing by the radiator
The paint is flecked
The heat is off
The floor is a shade of magnolia.
In your hand is 'Wuthering Heights'
You're complaining about Lockwood,
The class,
The teacher
Did you complain
About me when you were alone?
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There are one thousand oceans
And each one is dry
Lurking at the bottom of this
Merciless divide
There are one million buttercups
Which I planted and cried
I knew
You would pick one
And tell me goodbye.
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Strange Kind of Suicide
I remember him standing there; blue eyes, dark hair - brooding statue of a man in front of me. Any clue of feeling, any gesture could give me away.
I hated how he watched me, expecting me to shatter. Waiting for some kind of switch to activate my emotions. A switch he believed existed in the deepest, darkest room of my soul.
I remember just the day before we laid on the grass outside the cemetery, in the shade of an enormous chestnut tree. Dreaming of the future with his head next to mine, there was a part of me that knew these were our final moments.
Taking this knowledge, I gave myself to him completely, believing that this way we could never be separated. We were fated to be apart - I knew it as well as he did - but right then, it seemed we were both oblivious.
I remember waking the next morning, proud in the knowledge I had saved us. Putting on my favourite song and turning up the volume, my heart filled with praise for whoever had given that man to me. The impending distance seeme
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To everyone that knew her, Alice was the bookish type, retiring to the library after classes to catch up on her reading. Nobody at school knew much about Alice, only that her personality lay reserved to the pages of her favourite hardback and the few words she spoke outside of class were to the librarian.
For as long as she could remember, Alice had loved James - the mathematician in her class. She loved his brooding nature and passion for the subject matter, matched only by her love for fantasy. He didn’t know she existed and that was the way she liked it - from a distance she had the chance to wonder how it could be between them.
In reality, James loved only one woman and that was Jessica, whose fairy dust freckles had been the talk of the classroom since she first arrived. It would be incredibly gauche to say that Alice did not know of Jessica’s existence - rather that she ignored it.
At the back of maths class one afternoon, Alice sat scribing a letter to James. The note
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The Sparrow
The sparrow sings in another tower
I know I cannot fly
It was love that shut me here
And told me I must die
In dreaming of a prince, I know
I threw away my wings
Forever lost beyond the thorns
Adorned with pretty things
Watching from behind the glass
A silent statue head
Observing my prince solemnly
He dances with the dead
Is this the way it’s meant to be?
Sealed behind a door
Why ever did you leave me here
To sleep forevermore
The sparrow sings for us, my dear
I sang for you in vain
Flying from this prison, love
To dance with you again.
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Hey guys, I am about to start my third year of university in the wonderful city of Leicester. It doesn't feel like three years since college at all - almost seems like yesterday when I still took my floppy disks into the library with me XDDD.

Anyway, next week it looks likely that I am going to be doing a reading to the freshers entering our uni just like the third years did for us in our freshers week. It's all very exciting, cos I will be reading my own work to an audience of young and impressionable strangers XD. Also, this year I have a dissertation to do and I have picked a creative writing one. Funnily enough, the only issue I have is the word limit - I have a limit of 7,500 words, which when I get going, I'm sure won't be enough.

^_^ hope that everyone is all right, I haven't really been in touch for one reason or another. [Blame uni and its freakish awesomeness].

Love Sou xx
  • Listening to: Infected, from Repo! the genetic opera
  • Reading: Terry Pratchett
  • Watching: Shaun of the Dead
  • Playing: The good student
  • Eating: Toast
  • Drinking: Cola


Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United Kingdom
Current Residence: Behind Closed Eyes
Favourite genre of music: Anything, everything
Operating System: A computer (and my brain)
MP3 player of choice: One that works preferably
Shell of choice: A tortoiseshell!
Wallpaper of choice: An egyptian one...yeah...that'd be cool....
Skin of choice: Um...looks down...mine's fine thank you
Favourite cartoon character: Kaiba, L, Mansairaku, Kakashi, Haro (he should have his own show), Tamaki, Hikaru and Kaoru, Kaname
Personal Quote: Whatever................


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lemontea Featured By Owner Oct 3, 2017
DrinkTeaOrDie Featured By Owner Feb 14, 2010  Professional Filmographer
Thank you so much for the fav! I really appreciate it! :blowkiss:
jaceclearwing Featured By Owner Nov 10, 2009
wow, i think i just wandered into the past! i even remembered my login details.
hello olivia, been reading you poems- love vision
nsikhonsou Featured By Owner Nov 16, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
8D HEY THAR, I'm glad you liked my poems. So you've started writing again?
mhazzaa Featured By Owner Sep 11, 2008
regards from Egypt.
sexy-kat Featured By Owner Jun 10, 2008  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks for the watch.. yay!! :hug:
nsikhonsou Featured By Owner Jun 11, 2008  Hobbyist Writer
you're welcome ^^
AoiKita Featured By Owner May 29, 2008  Student General Artist
thanks for the watch.
I'm a fan of ancient egypt too :p...the Mummy is one of my fav movies ever.
nsikhonsou Featured By Owner May 29, 2008  Hobbyist Writer
you're welcome ^^ lol yeah, Egypt has always been a major part of me, dressing up as Cleo really made my day x
meganecrew Featured By Owner May 5, 2008
Thanks for the watch. ; u;
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