| Joining =Iscariot-Priest's Summer July Haikuthon! [link] |
| Joining =Iscariot-Priest's Summer July Haikuthon! [link] |


Almost 8:19.i want those pictures back, you bastard, and anAlmost 8:19.
apology is not enough and i wanted to write you
a letter but i just couldnt start with dear you.
you want to know what you left me?
there are these befuddled thoughts in my head thatve
been bothering me ever since you put them there and
left them for lost. they beat against my ribcage, clinging
to life and just banging to come out.


Post-Its V.sometimes i want to be as square as these things. --Post-Its V.
dear f., there is still some pixie dust on your shoulder that we both cant seem to brush off and so it burns my eyes.
dear b., I MISS YOU LIKE A HOUSEFIRE.
dear i.,


Haikuthon: July 1 - 191. (Wednesday, July 1st)Haikuthon: July 1 - 19
pow! the cat falls shocked
2.
i said capture this blonde essence of innocence it will fly away
3.
the angel of sin cant seem to move that bo[d]y; rejection is ice.
4.
saturday i think im a sour juliet - mixed to bittersweet
5.
my dear friend i have missed you so sweet sweet rain
6.
we know chocolate will taste better smashed into these heartbreak pieces
7.
fans shed te


July Haikuthonfirst.July Haikuthon
Burst of red and white, explosion of pride, night welcomes with open arms.
second.
white flower born dripping sunlight from petals grass dances to catch
third.
soft touch of breeze - tree sways like woman walking into sunlight
fourth.
morning glow - smile is traced taste of peaches
fifth.
Tree branches rake clouds - Zen afternoon.
sixth.
pink horizon in stormy skies, orange glowing b


allison allison sits with vermillion laced between her teeth, scattering glass marbles across the wooden floor and singing for the ghost-eyed children who live in her attic. "we do not know any better," she rasps vacantly, "so don't mind us when we wring your neck like a pigeon's."allison
she has scars on her ribs from when she was fifteen and cuts on her lips from chewing them too often. she has coffee stains on her teeth and burns on her tongue and seaside eyes that a dollmaker would love to gouge out and keep for himself. she has hands and legs but they aren't really hers, n


ChanceShe let him get lost in the soft blue noise that crowded behind her eyes and the promises that bloomed like orange lilies on a day gone mad with heat. She knew the danger of her skin where his thumbs caught under her collar and she felt the future swell her ribcage rustling the calm and pushing the sky beyond her limits. But she didn't care, she just wanted to taste what he could offer in the crush of his arms where his muscles ran clean and hard and snapped her lazy dreams to attention, stretching deChance

[H.] » is awhorable. |
--
As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being. -Carl Jung-
--
How can I sleep without your breathing?
How can I dream without your touch?
How can I hope without your smile?
How can I be me without you?
--
Civilization and Its Discontents.
"Each man kills the thing he loves." - Oscar Wilde
The hawk on fire hangs still. Dilly dilly, calls the loft hawk, come and be killed. Dilly dilly, come let us die.
--
As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being. -Carl Jung-
--
Feel free to visit my Etsy shops!
Delaney La Fae Studios [link]
Another Season [link]
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