seen from Philippines
seen from Canada
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Bulgaria
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Australia
seen from Canada
seen from China
seen from Kenya
seen from France
seen from Russia
seen from Russia
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Russia
seen from Türkiye
seen from South Africa
seen from China
Need to throw some creepiness into your story, but don’t wanna use cliche methods? Use the crow counting rhyme.
One for Sorrow
Two for Mirth
Three for a Wedding
And Four for a Birth
Five for Silver
Six for Gold
and Seven for a Secret never to be told
Put the appropriate amount of crows in the background when you wanna foreshadow something.
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ᔕ i ꪀ к… into the pinkish grey of magic light PONDER the mystery of each forbidden shadow I have colors sprayed onto the back of my retinas Shimmering with electric blues and brooding infrareds Does a color ever remind you of a certain day? Does a spectrum ever remind you of a certain age? Retina afterglow is the closest we get to seeing ultraviolet And we try to taste rainbows, but sometimes Only sometimes Pinkish grey is a comfort Like a womb #WeirdPoems #HiddenWaterfalls #MagicLight #WackyInstagram (at If I told ya, I'd have to kill ya...) https://www.instagram.com/p/CEz1A0ml1cv/?igshid=1wrk6gi5370ai
5-30-18 I.T.J.T
I wish I could speak. I wish I could look directly at you and lay out everything going on so you could repair me. No one can really know what's portrayed behind glass. Sometimes I wish I could take a mallet and crumble this glass house. Let you suffer through insecurities just so I could feel not alone in this plastic world. Till you grab my hand and help me torch barbies house until puddles and purses line hallways where everything that's pretend is revealed and there lies truth in bed with sin. And I could watch them undress themselves shamelessly. Unstitching the seams of our reality. Unteaching our brains. Pulling out of normality. But too bad my hands are bloodied from the glass and you ran to built another with tinted glass this time.
untitled.
I’m afraid I’ve misplaced my bones,
could I find them on your mantle?
Or perhaps on your dripping roof
trying to clog the holes?
I believe they grew away from me like vines,
covered the sagging porch,
filled the empty house;
the sink, the cracks, the lights
and crawling up your guilt-bent spine
are now limp around she
in your rancid bed sheets
reclining heavily against pillows.
I walk down the hall and
Silence waits in a room nearby,
tapping it’s fingers on the busted radio
and I see Patience step out alone
to the choked end of static.
But as I enter your sterile room,
from your bed she greets me:
“Good afternoon!”
Then goes on in her winsome way
making flutes out of femurs,
and I step from the room.
I sigh, ripping plastic from the walls
and filling myself up
“ all the same”
I say:
“all the same.”
