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sense.blow. let the urge trudge time. these tongues produce a rusted language. that form repulsive dreams in your mist, smell of bitter shadows. ache like the frantic rose gardens. cry a thousand red wax tears. sleep through a stormy symphony. manipulate the goddess of the languid moons; and shine, black whisper.sense.
by ~delicatexlather
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deviantID
Devious Info
- Current Residence: rhodeisland.
- Interests: wordsmithing. juice.
- Favourite movie: thirteen. the core. hoosiers.
- Favourite band or musician: bjork. the doobie brothers. the eagles. sixpence none the richer. blood brothers.
- Favourite poet or writer: sylvia plath. e.e. cummings. dean koontz.
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And the picture for "Topple."... *shudder*
And the Doobie Brothers, yay!
... you guys rock, have I ever told you that?
--
Q: Why couldn't the lifeguard rescue the hippie?
A: He was too far out, man!
--
<3 Nic
"As an artist, you organize your life so you get a chance to paint, a window of time, but that's no garantee you'll create anything worth all your effort. You're always haunted by the idea you're wasting your life." - Chuck P - Diary
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