Blog Archives

Poems,

Vingt

The leaves still rustle when the wind yawns.
The stillness is short lived.
Temper. Temper and controlled storms.
A million bottles of hearts that grieve.
There is beauty in your soul’s brain.
Matchless pairs make up your being.
You are unaware that gold flows through your veins.
Such sanity will cause a stone to sing.
Vingt.
The wounded crawl into hiding once again.
Petals wither at the hour before dawn.
Bleed the oil lamps and drop the curtains attached to the frames.
Then the green light will flood in from the cracked window screen.
20ème
We will slowly rekindle the dousing flame from the beam.
It’s time.

Poems,

Nimsa A'dool: First post

Take a hold of you. Never let yourself go.

Grip yourself so tight. Don’t care ‘bout this cold

Bow your head in pain. Hold your tears back in.

Don’t think about the past. Keep your mind at peace.

Find your inner coven. Spend a night in there.

Make it like a haven. Just don’t give a care.

Let your heart beat, let it roam free.

Don’t protect it yet, the scene isn’t ugly

Then melt your heart to stone. Paint it with the 7th shade of black.

Paint it black!! Carve a hole, carve out a well from the top of it.

Fill it with gun powder.

Now protect it with all you have. Let nothing come near it.

Else it’ll explode and you’ll go up in flames and down in history.

 

Morale.

 

(6 February 2013)

Instagram did not return a 200.