void
sometimes, you feel void. #20 poetry july 14, 2016.
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please don't die
after dark beautiful things grow and fester, kissing your mouth, eviscerating your insides.
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embers
his hands were blue his eyes black his lips were white and his cheeks red but all people saw was a rainbow s h o r t p o e m s - a k a :: results of too often exaggerated yet too real emotions number twenty-eight in poetry on april seventeenth (just how??) [lowercase intended] w a r n i n g : some poems deal with sen...
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romanticism of monsters
careworn and smiling with a crooked grin, adoration slept in the wrinkles beside his eyes as he observed the mosaic beauty. she held his callused palm in hers and whispered to the moon; "tonight, we're monsters." romanticism isn't always beautiful.
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scribbles and drabbles
a collection of drabbles, mostly one-line thoughts. a plentitude of emotions and hue poetry. many of these are tweets from my illhueminati twitter c: (c) mockingjayde 2013-2014
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Gold bronze
happenings : a well plotted conspiracy to rob the skins of the most prestigious school in current Broadway. #73 ( 30.4.18 ) Copyright © 2016 , humanoligy
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Clockwork
Everything remembered must be forgotten. The gods are glorious, and then they are not -- history is an ongoing clock. It trudges on.
