Search

Eye Of The Storm

Seeing the storm from my eyes.

Category

Poetry

Asmodeus #46: Gifts

there are garlands around her neck bruised flowers of long fingers blue stamps over pale skin yellowing tattoos of old rust she'll tie her tongue inside her mouth with sparkling diamonds soaked in acid before she lets the sunlight touch... Continue Reading →

Advertisements

Asmodeus #45: Bruised

bruised knuckles don't hurt as much as bruised cheeks do when he pulls back his fist and pauses mid-air a throne of death in his eyes and pools of lava floating in his knuckles every time he stops the flinches... Continue Reading →

Asmodeus #44: Poetry

the best poetry is that which looks the simplest on the surface but if you peer in you see depths of oceans in murky echoes resounding within you like it is bouncing off the far away walls of the mountains... Continue Reading →

Asmodeus #43: Soft

they say girls should be soft but keep forgetting that the footsteps of predators are the softest before they pounce on their prey so being a girl i say, "run!" we're as soft as they come.

Colors-R-Us.

Existence (n.): in its most generic terms, it is the ability to, directly or indirectly, interact with reality or, in more specific cases, the universe.   painted lips and stuttering breaths cataclysms that destroyed morality we were well versed in... Continue Reading →

This Week In

I recently started writing short poetry and posting them on Instagram stories. I realized that a 24 hour timeline isn't exactly the best way to publish my work so I'll update my weekly posts on the blog here. You can... Continue Reading →

Asmodeus #41: Islands

now that you're gone, i see everything i needed to be waters that drowned me way too deep i just let them engulf me but now that you're gone, i see everything that i can be if i can swim... Continue Reading →

Asking For It

She should have stayed at home In the kitchen And cooked food for the family But she went out Wearing jeans and a full sleeve top And so fate handed it to her She was asking for it. She should... Continue Reading →

Tomorrow.

I could die tomorrow. He keeps telling me I'm like a flower that needs sunshine and rain and a shed over my head that protects me from the thunder. I have thorns inside my petals that sting the wild dogs... Continue Reading →

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: