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Literature Text
Bioassay says that;
you effortlessly induce much
'Pheromones'
than
discolored, monotonous and irksome words,
my
poor poesy.
I but never did loathe, reek at your
beauty.
It just I dislike, disagree when
vivid and
juicy piece of metaphors, become nonentity
literature.
Even god`s fair,
aboveboard with obviously you,
providing
entirety
of what-so-ever you desired to click.
One
remarkable camera,
all you need and you easily be
eminent.
So should I go and lick that
55mm lens?
Your métier is Way wieldy than indite
syllable.
And remember? how
slut tools feed your
abasic,
aparaxic,
stupor children and metamorphosed them
into
enamor photograph.
I always loved your slut editing tools,
whores.
How long you comforted, enjoyed fornication,
downstairs together,
while I did labour my first baby
poetry.
I could have
obliterate those slut tools.
such
conspicuous,
polygenic development of your species
by
using them.
Photography certainly doesn't make you
Cleopatra,
but my Strawberry friend it surely, inexorably,
defame and
make me sound heinous bitch as a
writer.
Literature
longflowing
a spacial dimension unnameable. look.
i touch without touching.
i know without knowing.
these fruits are mine to take
and yet not.
finish my plea as a
flower grown fully in my fingers.
those waves that roll
unstoppable: this i am like.
my satellite is not
an easy one.
im scared on dark nights
when the moon is
inescapable.
picture this: no fear.
my hands and my mouth and your skin.
cellar light.
some otherworldly pulse
or one lesser known
but real as anything
i could never touch.
and this column
comes tumbling down
our hearts are run
into the ground.
Literature
Berlin
you were my five day summer.
I fell in love with the maze of your veins
and the hum of your heartbeat. I lost vital
parts of me between the brick of your
walls, and yet I found myself a thousand
times in the tangle of your stories and the
gravel of your skin.
you whispered secrets in my hair and
I laughed like ice cream, and all the
scents and all the flavors that you taught
me are now nacreous pigments in my
larynx.
it's in your hold that I was sent to sleep
with exhaustion dripping from my lips
and satisfaction nestled in my limbs.
I came to you to escape from the things
that have settled deep
inside my bones,
and I c
Literature
stomached
you blush and bruise
with sidewalks, stones,
the quiet doorways in your thighs
and the weight of your purple
tongue against mine
(a carnival of teeth)
if you swallowed the moon
with your agate jaws,
you could not be more nacreous
or divine
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
- Before any Photographer friend of mine get offended by this,photography? Holds my breath too.
- Scream, freak out, do whatever you want to. Peace.
And
Feedback? (:What do you think about format?
Featured [link] - Thank you lovely = Puppy-eater
- Appreciate every
With respect
Comments34
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I really took to the idea that art can't be carelessly created in this piece.
'Photography certainly doesn't make you
Cleopatra,'
As much as I love photography, I thought this illustrated that point brilliantly.
'Photography certainly doesn't make you
Cleopatra,'
As much as I love photography, I thought this illustrated that point brilliantly.