Flowers bloom for hours.
Time passes.
Now aged.
Wilting pleasures that melt my heart.
Still beautiful.
Magick upon their sent.
Timeless beauty.
Embracing life and their final moments.
I will see you next year my friends.
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Tag / Photography
Mind Games
Insta story episode 8
Mind Games
Integrity inserted into inferior intellect.
Ignorance ignites.
Integrated insanity incites inferno… incinerates imagination.
Immoral illogical irony… Ideology idolized.
Inspires inconceivable idiocy.
Warrior wielding wistfully written words.
Wonderfully weaponized writing…
Withstanding withered wilting wrights.
Whimsical witchcraft wailing weeping wyle.
Wages written war.
Calloused conservative Caucasians.
Conspire consequential conditions.
Conducting crafted criticism.
Condemning conundrum converting change.
Constitutional?
Emotional Overload
Insta Story Episode 7
Emotional Overload
Heart held in hand.
A scene from a Hollywood movie.
Words of enchantment race through my mind.
Twisted words of emotion.
The game of torment.
Beating of the heart.
It belongs to you now.
Still my own, never for sale.
Stolen by your magick.
Held in your hands.
Squeeze gently.
Pulse beating.
Sweat… dripping.
Mind racing.
One heart.
Nature’s Spell
Reality in Contradiction
Insta Story
Episode 1
Reality in Contradiction
Fairies are real.
Don’t believe me that is fine. Truth be told I did not believe so myself until
one followed me home one day. Just my shadow you say. Just my
imagination. Well it could have been but if it was just my imagination or even
my shadow for that matter then do I feel such joy. Why did I smile as they sat
upon my shoulder whispering into my ear, the two of us talking sweet nonsense?
Why did the madness of the material world vanish in a haze the insanity that
was my racing thought silenced by their words? Why did we laugh until we were
both upon the ground gazing dizzily up upon the rolling the clouds above? Tell
me friend how is it that the flowers came to spring about just upon their
arrival? Has your imagination ever made the sky weep? has your shadow ever made
the breeze so sweet and soft that it kisses you gently upon your face as time
drifts into nothingness? The work of the fay or the mind.
Fairies are real, and I won’t let anyone tell me
otherwise.
