the milk, once spilled
The day breaks in its old half-hearted way, bright in cusps and pardons. It clings to the borders and fills in the gaps with its blustered over abundance. The sun rises, another day begins. I forget what happens next.
The heat endures, another day of summer slowly undone. That sweep of light and fever, those secrets of sweat and ache. I...
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The day breaks in its old half-hearted way, bright in cusps and pardons. It clings to the borders and fills in the gaps with its blustered over abundance. The sun rises, another day begins. I forget what happens next.
The heat endures, another day of summer slowly undone. That sweep of light and fever, those secrets of sweat and ache. I...
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Sweep the skies with all those useless lights, burn away the day with embers that simmer and fade. Watch the horizon line from the precipice, watch it from the thin mirror of that rattling train, distance drowns every longing, it smothers every attempt to see. The nearest mountains, the last town, the gas station or the power line gallows pieced together from hints and shadows....
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daim:
A feel that lingers
you say
Horsemen of a night-triggered shroud
enveloped slowly
coursing along the tick and tug
a clock of doves falling
from the sky
tick and tick
what absence blossoms
after flowering words
forgotten, because of the kiss
because of the lost kiss
A horseman strayed beyond
his own imagination
clustered amidst pinnacles
like grapes just before the dark
the dark that sinks in
crushing with its weight of silence.
you say
Horsemen of a night-triggered shroud
enveloped slowly
coursing along the tick and tug
a clock of doves falling
from the sky
tick and tick
what absence blossoms
after flowering words
forgotten, because of the kiss
because of the lost kiss
A horseman strayed beyond
his own imagination
clustered amidst pinnacles
like grapes just before the dark
the dark that sinks in
crushing with its weight of silence.
reypulque:
That was a feast, served in a smattering of stanzas. Thank you.
For the long line waiting, for the color of skin mingled with shadows, for all the best I have wasted and all the bitter others have swallowed I wish just a little. I lean against the softening wall with my hard and tender head and pray for mass. I breath in whispers of my last tainted breath and lay my pallid faith square in the...
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The dusk tastes of gravity and despair, so far into the depths of gray buried in the bright blue vanishing horizon. Wake with the moon, watch all the streets in a fading fever dream, feel the slow dissolution of your grasp spilling from your fingers. Everything so like a song, old David Bowie, traces of The Knux. The threadbare whispers of native tongue assimilating with...
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daim:
You are a man of beautiful words
Only the moon watches, its gaze sickly and taut with the jealously of one million breathless years. Only the moon knows the shallow breaths and the the shoveled tongue, the words that burned the forests of your heart bitter and black. A there are thousands of miles scratching at your skin, the journeys taken and the ones left in ruins behind your mind. The sky...
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The word are there. There are words and words, and words some more. The story still is missing. Each line dissolves it further, each sentence ends the one before. Each sentence ends in a sentence. The words are through, the words will follow.
Oh the weight of the metal. Oh the flavor of steel. It is at the heart of this riddle, the bluff manners...
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Oh the weight of the metal. Oh the flavor of steel. It is at the heart of this riddle, the bluff manners...
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priscila:
really thank you for your sweet comment on my new set
The cracked cup fumes in the way all things fume on their way to breaking, arguing the breadth of their purpose, awaiting the inevitable abandon of uselessness. The fractured vessel will do for now, that last prayer for the hopeless, for the terminally unloved. Outside the night hisses and pops, the false report of small arms fire that the wind makes of so many sputtering...
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Someday I will tell my story, arrow-straight, from root to bloom. I will not rely on cyphers and drive-by revelations, leaving traces lingering between the lines and behind the brick work. I will tighten my spokes and stop spinning my wheels, engaged at last with the moment and the road. Each key stroke won't find music, but the spread of letters might find a song....
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suicidewithakiss:
Wow, that was very well written. It paint vivid images in my mind and you really got your point across in a deep and meaningful way. I really enjoyed reading that!
suicidewithakiss:
You're welcome
. And I know exactly what you mean. I do, however, find that unexpected acts of kindness have a greater effect on me due to their nature. Unfortunately, the heat was no exception today so I'm still frying haha
So the death knell writes the story, the explanation we will share about what all this leaving means. Saccharine tattoos and curbside altars, cruel jokes and off-color remarks. All the fear and confusion and hysteria that hums just below the taut skin of all these continuing lives freed to blame and forgive, to steal and creep and reshape some other light into a few fading...
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emya:
Hey love
I'm back after a break that was far too long! I've just seen your latest sweet comment on my set That's so adorable
I just think, if only the lighting was perfect
but it was the best we could do with limited resources. That's definitely why it won't ever go pink, but I dont mind, it's all a learning curve and i'll get it spot on next time
Can't wait to shoot another now, I have an extreme urge to strip for everyone again haha
Thanks for your support from the beginning
xXx
.cactus flower
Eyes closed I don't know
that you are sleeping.
Eyes opened I don't know
that you can see.
To begin anew too much like wishing,
to end at last to much like escape.
Over night the cactus blooms,
flaring pink and yellow
straight from the mystery of dreaming.
Change is constant
from the rising of the day
to the chilling of the...
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Eyes closed I don't know
that you are sleeping.
Eyes opened I don't know
that you can see.
To begin anew too much like wishing,
to end at last to much like escape.
Over night the cactus blooms,
flaring pink and yellow
straight from the mystery of dreaming.
Change is constant
from the rising of the day
to the chilling of the...
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The shine takes each face, brightness blurring distinction, slurring the very act of naming. Fires rise, lit by sparks spat out from the core of the sun thousands of years ago, delicately flickering, flavored faintly with the eternal. Identity something kept folded in a pocket. Identity something forgotten in a cab.
Summer begins as fevers, it ends as feasts. All the color refracted and nursed...
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Summer begins as fevers, it ends as feasts. All the color refracted and nursed...
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kraven:
Wow you leave some great comments and opinions on sets and I wanted to thank you for that. It is nice to have your support on my new set! It means a lot! I hope you have a great week!
The faint but pressing weight of a changing sky changes the context of the unspoken conversation, from face to skull, from rail to steel. All the tossed molecules of breath and soon to be breath, spinning and gleaming in broad arcs and measurable waves before the words woven with them. A haze of heat and scent cut and edited by the whipping winds. The change...
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