

The SculptorA hedgehog of the creative spark stuck its pointed face, before nestling into the folds of some sculptorThe Sculptor
He, oh brilliant he who molds paradise with human hands It may be said that wonder is the sculptor, he who draws the clay, mere dirt from between our toes, to build a model for what heaven he sees in our connection to the earth
This one though,
He, brilliant he left streaks of Arizona red through his black hair, cast a stare only a statue could appreciate, for no one yet has won a staring contest
with Venus de Milo
He, bri


GuiltThe only passage between here and there Wandered and dabbled in dark things And tempted things lighter than airGuilt
The dour and childish love of the paths Trembled and whimpered of reason And kept all its miscreants laughs
A broken bread, a tortured head Teased and seduced a plaything And trapped where her majesty tread
A tell-tale yearning of his demise Hinted and noted a promise And changed its wondering lies
Why ease the parchment? Spray lies on pages Why please the moment? Gray eyes she rages
The welcome d


Ending StrongI want a flaming sarcophagus It doesn't confine, it frees from worldly troubles doubles I'm dumb with perception affection caring naught and this affliction restriction daring aught to emancipate translate my soul from trust When will I sepulcher screaming reaming dust from crimson eyes that pierce fierce in the grave? The weary and lax black digits that pluck life must clasp tight feeling such effusion used to soft descent hellward reeling that drains lust of rampant fire on bare skin oft loses light of a hate's gaze and dark of love's crazeEnding Strong


The Water of LifeIm always astounded by the scenes of quiet desperation.The Water of Life
Dazzled we are by the interplay of cathode rays behind crystal displays that scream CARPE DIEM!
into our image-drunk senses Dazzled, transfixed we are plugged in connected eating drinking pissing patience as we wait for that great whore fortuna to spin us
away to crave Canaan on her spinning rims
The Cinnamon Babe suckling at her mothers engorged tit tastes the sulphur bitterness of loss and squeals still with orgiastic delight at others pain
BLAST IT a


15. Silenceblame yourself. the lines never go where they should but blame yourself Green, bluegreen, green insidiously slipping behind your walls just blame yourself Fear is just another word to block the sounds run, run away if you can you can't catch me- I'm the gingerbread man.15. Silence


The Forest's PariahA tree more lorn than any other Found in any vast woods forsaken corner An outcast among kin sprung of an earthly mother A grounded vagrant whos death would bring no mourner.The Forest's Pariah
There must it stand, sterile and bitter Its heart rotted out from within The breeze refusing to touch it, or carry its litter, The light never seeking it to cleanse its sin.
Two pairs of paird letters, once deeply and carefully carved Became its infectious, slow-killing wound For though a cross joined them, there encircled too light a heart Making it a memory of that w
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HUNGARIANS - BNB Foto
"The Shadow what really makes the picture... not the light!"
--
(and who has the mind to disagree~)
in fact, have a cookie.
--
go here --> [link] [not my gallery]
Kyrie, Ignis Divine, Eleison.
-Lilium (Elfen Lied)
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