Indeed it has come.
A time for taking of
toast and tea. A time
for a maybe, plus you
plus me. Evenings
mornings and after
Noons, I’ve measured
these days till when
I’d see you soon.
So how should I presume?
And how do I begin?
To prepare my ear
for the sound
of your din.
Slippery…
Feels like home.. (Taken with Instagram)
Barking in the night
announces the coming storm.
Tiptoes and raindrops.
(Source: fuckyeahtattoos, via intricateframework)
collaboration with burmesejorjiapits
the reality of the matter is
a mere fitting of sounds, a
favor made in doses of blood
dripped upon the ground.
just one drop of this mud
takes a moment to digest,
when words of your ruin
find mine second best.
words are words
and some are not better
than one’s
maybe we should all be mud
to another’s eyes
or shall we all be the sun
blinding, illuminating the skies
all of this poetry and prose
is a transparent screen
to the lives and hearts of those
who cannot help but to write
we do fit the mold. ;)
