

gone..your sweet sour smell turns me back into time when all was golden but lost inside.. a colour fills your heart like the pain you used to feel when all was good.. you'll never be happy and thats the way you like it, you don't know much about space but you get right out of your body every night. the wind whispers in your ear all the things you've come to hear, the clouds are all sleeping on your shoulder and you listen to their happiness as you watch red footprings walk right up your door. you don't know who i am. and even though everyone invents their own being, we'll all wrapped up to see through our own tales and make sense of it all. i drawgone..


Chestnut FiresFrom the old chestnut fire comes the cold story of a writer one who fell into his own desire just so he could burnt a little bit brighterChestnut Fires
A dressing failure from underneath your smile and you remember where it had all begun no better of it was worth such a while where the words seemingly spun off your tongue
given to you by your grandfathers this machine burns a hole in your pocket slowly you became the devils martha and you succumbed to your locket
and when that typewriter comes to kill you you won't forget to say; "hello to you too" typi


etheral ductsjust like i had, you fell victim to the beauty of poison such things were never meant as gifts and would never be as charming if they didn't bite but they never let go, and no matter how many years pass one thing is still the same, and the spell never changes it travels up your veins and swallows your heart but still you seek the things that burn you its warmth comes so painfully to the duct of life but what else is it.etheral ducts
until the hallows pass can you see its all around. and you burn others like they really had anything to do with it. but who am i to kid, i'm just a


a widow's breaththe breath of a distant wonder like a love calling you by name in the easterly light of the morning. the sounds of burnt memories dripping down the cathedral lanes. filled with the bodies held there respectively, one cannot do anything to help. the smell of the sweet charms of the underworld dancing across your neck. you hurl me across the page with a lightning bolt as you touch my chest. wandering across my open fields i'm yours to keep. but away you fall, in your usual silent fashion. and god himself couldn't have interpreted your thoughts. for you were as locked shut as ever before. nota widow's breath
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HUGO Create Graphic Contest Round 10 // Theme: SimpliCity // For more info & to participate, surf to [link]
You are still quite the talent.
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➠agiaco.net
➠IntrinsicNature
➠Slashthree
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♥
Thank you very much for the
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Juha M. Kinnunen Photography
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"art is love"
~electrikmuse
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♥
I thought I lost it.
But I wrote a poem every day for five days, and it's where my poems came from.
You need to keep writing no matter what. You need to keep everything.
<3
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