Dreams of darks
so twisted and vile
unable to tell apart
ambrosia from bile
as the moon barks
in the shades all the while
Dreams of disaster
reaping and ravaging
and following after
refugees alleging
that not running faster
will find havens worth salvaging
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About Me
Blog Archive
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2009
(132)
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December
(31)
- Scene 130: Rebirth
- Scene 129: Beauty of the Night
- Scene 128: Direction
- On the Natures of Seduction
- Scene 127: Adrenaline of Addictions
- Scene 126: Winter Salesmen
- Scene 125: Toy Satisfaction
- Scene 124: Red and White in Winter
- Scene 123: Coal
- Scene 122: My Martini
- Scene 121: Worth (Thanks for the Memories)
- Scene 120: Wallpaper Stories
- Scene 119: Dark Flights
- Scene 118: May Flowers from the West
- Scene 117: Marvelling at Nothing
- Scene 116: Maybe
- Scene 115: Cloud-falling Dreams
- Scene 114: White Ambrosia
- Scene 113: We (Lightbulb Love)
- Scene 112: Blooming in the Dark
- Scene 111: Presidents On the Street
- Scene 110: Behind the Fore
- Scene 109: Under the Mirror-blue Ocean
- Scene 108: The Heart in the Fog
- Scene 107: Watering
- Scene 106: Carrying
- Scene 105: Done Dark
- Scene 104: Acceptance
- Scene 103: On the Nature of Men
- Scene 102: Nowhere Man
- Scene 101: Swept
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December
(31)
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