Calm funerary monuments tramples the parched ground of this deserts.
The recoiled shadowy boredom submerges this incautious verziere of dreams.
Again the black flow of time defeated the chariots of the shining age and overturned in muddy fords.
Imbued in this fabric of memories the present of my dubious certainties, a worn edge of worn-out years where the past is pain and the wait has already passed.
3am thoughts, of my late cousin, for my late cousin and our early dreams.
Where Her Demons Go, We Will Follow (Symphonic Black Metal) — DivinumX ‘tis the time of night when your love strutsWith a mixed perfume of musk and havanaLike a strange deity, dark as the nightsLike a work of dead gods of the Savannah. ’tis that time of night I know how to tameMe, by writing; and you, …
…a poem by Sena Quashie Tonight the moon dances with laziness; As well as beautyOn the cushions of many who dream. With its dull light like a distracted handIt caresses the outlines of ourselves as we fall asleep. On the satin back of the soft avalanches, Dying, she surrenders to the long swoon, And walks in our eyes, a white …
The Fountain is dancing to the beat and I watch it cheerfully.It sways to the left, right, and into my shallow hilarity.I never laughed that way to such, there must be some magic to it.And so, it waves here and there, and I, giggling from ear to ear. The Fountain is dancing to the beat …
untitled for Afi
Calm funerary monuments
tramples the parched ground of this deserts.
The recoiled shadowy boredom
submerges this incautious verziere of dreams.
Again the black flow of time
defeated the chariots of the shining age
and overturned in muddy fords.
Imbued in this fabric of memories
the present of my dubious certainties,
a worn edge
of worn-out years
where the past is pain
and the wait has already passed.
3am thoughts, of my late cousin, for my late cousin and our early dreams.
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Where Her Demons Go, We Will Follow (Symphonic Black Metal) — DivinumX ‘tis the time of night when your love strutsWith a mixed perfume of musk and havanaLike a strange deity, dark as the nightsLike a work of dead gods of the Savannah. ’tis that time of night I know how to tameMe, by writing; and you, …
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The Fountain is dancing to the beat and I watch it cheerfully.It sways to the left, right, and into my shallow hilarity.I never laughed that way to such, there must be some magic to it.And so, it waves here and there, and I, giggling from ear to ear. The Fountain is dancing to the beat …