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About Literature / Hobbyist Timothy J SwannMale/United Kingdom Group :iconorang-utan-comics: Orang-Utan-Comics
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deviation in storage by GuBCM
A combination of dying conurbations, bleak natural landscapes and the only words that have a chance of describing it all.



Haphephobia – I forge relationships
Of immense intensity
With people I will never know,
And can never meet,
Who exist only in aether, and
Are given flesh by a libidinous mind. No contact
No contact, no touch,
For I know that I’m compelling
If all I have is the
And my words
To lead the way.

Aphephobia – A monastic cell
Whose door opens into
A brothel where I’m the madam,
An abbess of one and a
Procuress of infinite possibility.

There is a rule of no touching but it counts differently:
Don’t touch my heart and don’t move me,
Don’t caress a strand of sympathy.

Haphophobia – I crafted an environment
Where the closest heartstring
Is full one hour away:

“Oh give me space,” I said,
Meaning the void
Where every distance is essentially infinite,
And light reaches not to my retreat.

Hapnophobia – Love did not (save) me, but it did preserve me.
That is to say, my love, the love
I made,
A preservation of a decaying star,
A nucleus losing everything that gave it identity,
Until it resembles nothing of who it was.

Held in some skeletal form by broken love.

Haptephobia – I recognise symptomology
In my self-description,
Go through my poems with a diagnostic manual
To be convinced of new representations of my flaws,
This and this and these and these.

Haptophobia – For love
Did not (save) me
It did preserve me,
In motionless, no, in repetitive cycling motion
Of three-second moments
Done ad infinitum,
The love of flashes of her face
The love of indulgent self-incorporation of the ideas of a person
A gallery of bemused, distant fascination
The contemplation of the universe
Oh cold love, where one thinks to own and never to give!

What preservation this? Aspic! Formaldehyde! Glass! Stone! Ice!

Haptophobia, the fear of touch, that this fragile space
Which is briefly my own
Cannot remain purely my own
And that fear-beyond-fear
That one changes one’s whole life
To avoid one part of it,
To always over-react
Shying from a single touch.

Thixophobia – Love did not (save) me, but it did preserve me.
To keep on ice and thus
Maintain a perfect distance
Ever close, never embracing,
Holding back in cold layers always.

And yet
Longing for the touch,
Of warm hands, of being held in fire and in truest love,
That melts, restores,
To deny self-preservation and find I’m saved.
The final and eponymous work. Each of the titles of the sections are synonyms for haptophobia, the fear of being touched.
So it was about four years ago and I would call it a lifetime
If that wasn't offensive
And I know I don't mourn like a pagan
But I miss you
You're not a pressed flower
You're not frozen
You're a garden, and it's summer

I had to come before I went
Had to be honest
I'm going where we were both going to be
And you're with me
A bit
The dirt on my hands never washed
Earth and the earthman
And the heart and the hippocampus

It's tranquil till it's not
Nothing set in stone
There's just a wooden cross
We'd fought all sorts of things in that same corps
On the same journey
The same mission, royal commission
So so long as I'm struggling I know you're ready to laugh at my foibles

The only flower I associate you with dances
Bawdy lyrics and our rubbish harmonies
But there's a place where carnations grow and no one is afraid

Of course I wish I could have kept you closer
Of course I know I make the same mistakes, every one of them
But I'm going now where we were always headed
And you’d still recognise me
And know who I was
Even think you'd be doing this too
I promise you
I can't promise more than that
It's not my place and I'm not strong

I will try to pretend nothing
Seeds grow out of the earth
And I can feel all that was planted in me
St. Michael and All Angels
From one Cofton locale to another. Written for a friend now gone, on a day of facing up to mortality, just over a year ago.
My body in space and time
Is a battleground of warring
Allied forces
And internecine;
I spend my time as a negotiator for my own release,
When we all agree on purpose and not on
How to get away.

Meanwhile predators that do not stalk
And fearful souls stride like hunters
We wilfully forget the spectrum and subtlety
Whilst morally choosing to believe, always.

We knew I must go to the sea,
We know I would be on the edge,
Some bastion standing where waves meet the land
Where black paper swans bisect the green,
And strands connect us in new ways.
A sequel to Lionsmouth, on the basis of being about the job I did get rather than the one I interviewed for in Lionsmouth.
I can’t express it but I’m begging you to rescue me
Even as I love this
I wish you were here taking me
Throwing me over your shoulder
Kicking and screaming
Exfiltrated by you from the deepest danger.

A big man with a big walk
Striding into the heart of the beast, the belly of darkness,
To steal me.

I resist and I struggle but
Only because I’d trapped myself
More thoroughly
Than degrading captors
In vermicelli ideas
A labyrinthine library of lies
To tie me to this bed.

He speaks and none dare reply
He lifts and I can’t stop him
My protests are feeble, unheard
To his stature,
And he can
Walk down the street, as I kick and I scream
And no-one questions it.
They know
That he is the hero.

I can’t tell him now,
As my impotent tantrum rages
How he’s saved me
From all horror
But even if I will never turn to thanks
He would have come
It is in his nature to break in and rescue.
Kicking and Screaming
A poem inspired by this scene from Luther… where Luther takes on a messianic edge.
Dead, honeysuckle summer
Dead teenagers
Dropping, mayflies. Impossible hallucinatory British Summer Time

In hot, sticky darkness,
Hidden cove-caves,
Absences appearing along
A sandy map.

All human, always human.

Salt-taste and salt-lips
Skin that crackles under
Polaroid sunlight
This could never be now.

So then, rotting sweetness
Dying on the vine,
Told only in recollections
Warped vinyl on the 45RPM of ’76
(Or was it the 76RPM of ’45?)
Sun-drenched days,
Sweat-drenched clothes,
Blood-drenched remembrance.

Bleached paper, crinkled, unfolded,
Scrubbed hands,
Lye, lies, all that season
Gone quiet,
The climber dry and brittle,
A tangle that cannot be undone
And all of it dead.
Another poem slightly revised thanks to the whole of the poetry group.
Unto Cover by tetrarchangel

Unto is a novella of love, loss and redemption.

It was originally written by hand in a notebook, with a mix of line-broken poetic sections and prose sections, alternating by notebook page. 

It was, or at least became, set in the world of Reason, the novel I wrote ten years ago, and I released it on that anniversary.

You should buy it! It's cheap in money, and it's heartbreaking in sentiment, and do you need any more recommendation than that? Click the  link:…


Timothy J Swann
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United Kingdom
Timothy J Swann is a writer of novels and of poems, currently working on the publishing of his first novel, The Purity Construct, as well as a host of ongoing short stories and poetic series. He admits his name is a little pretentious, but is of the opinion that it looks better on a book cover than Tim Swann, even if he's called Tim by everyone he knows.

Current Age: 22
Current Residence: Worcester
Favourite genre of music:

Journal History

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lillyby Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
tetrarchangel Featured By Owner Apr 18, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
VoidParadigm Featured By Owner Dec 16, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
|ike here.
winterhill Featured By Owner Dec 14, 2012
sorry i hit the unwatch button by accident!
please jsut accept this new and improved watch request :D
archelyxs Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2012
Hi there, thank you so much for all of your support. How have you been? Happy spring and best wishes to you. :heart: :tea:
tetrarchangel Featured By Owner Apr 22, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
I've been a bit ill and thus not as creative recently, but I've finally started my next model, and going to a poetry society so I'm actually editing stuff for the first time. Yes, spring sprang, didn't it! We have storms of hail practically every day here at the moment. How goes your 'education'?
archelyxs Featured By Owner Apr 22, 2012
A poetry society! That sounds incredible!
My "education" goes fairly well. Lots and lots of reading and not as much writing this semester. So much reading.
tetrarchangel Featured By Owner Apr 25, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Yes, I suppose that was inevitable. The poetry society is quite fun, yes.
HugQueen Featured By Owner Nov 21, 2011   Writer

Just because! ♥ How are you?
tetrarchangel Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
Doing alright - just started a new job, so I'll have to see how the writing fits in.
HugQueen Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2011   Writer
Oh, I do wish you well in your new job and I hope you can get some writing in. ♥
tetrarchangel Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
Well, I'm doing research for my new novel right now. Ish.
(1 Reply)
thetaoofchaos Featured By Owner Nov 4, 2011   Writer
I appreciate the interest.

RenaissanceLover Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2011  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you for the watch. :)
archelyxs Featured By Owner Aug 27, 2011
Thanks as always for continuing to support my work :heart:
tetrarchangel Featured By Owner Aug 28, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
I would not do it if I did not truly believe your work was worth supporting.
Nichrysalis Featured By Owner Aug 25, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the comments, I've been checking your work to as it comes into my inbox, haven't had much time to comment though.
tetrarchangel Featured By Owner Aug 25, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
My pleasure, time is perhaps our greatest luxury at present, eh?
VoidParadigm Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist

deviantART muro drawing Comment Drawing
tetrarchangel Featured By Owner Aug 18, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
That's good! Want to do one of my eye? [link]
VoidParadigm Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
deviantART muro drawing Comment Drawing
tetrarchangel Featured By Owner Aug 18, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
The correct onomatopoeia is Vworp. Also, which one is Amy?
VoidParadigm Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
Awh, you didn't get it. The angels have the phonebox. =(
tetrarchangel Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
Drawing Weeping Angels is a bad idea.
omega3r Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2011
hey, thanks for the watch!
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