I walk alone in the plains I call home Watch the sky turn red before cold Sun drowns in mirages down below, and I wonder if any of my rhymes even matter She sinks low, she sinks low I'm freezing and I know they don't That emptiness though, let me explain The loneliness and fullness and the endless void Stretch, stretch still, sand screaming, scratching We're just beginning, toes adapting Blisters as loud as you can muster But the desert is not pale enough The desert can't be wide enough The desert is not big enough So I will walk, walk the unknown Let's dream of the many reasons why I was born As the horizon is torn and black seeps with scorn The sun is down But I will crawl I will breathe as long, as when, as human, I cry so I guess that must amount to something Something as I travel Travel through the plains I call home
Surgical and patient, first you seed and try and bloom
Fruit comes from the bone,
Though
Flowers grow best if you maintain them.
Crimson desert, empty landscapes, I look out, the horizon tilts
I watch as my fingers dance while my guilt builds.
So lovely, lonely as we are,
we don't need text to describe
there is no need for this poem or rhyme,
done, lost and we'll subside.
Evaporate, if you will, hah, seems like a funny word,
gone is better, but who cares, another blur.
Either way.
We're together, and, and...
and ever so alone... what matters.
Pieces of us, broken and scattered.
Hey, love, do you mind?
I'm sick and crushed and I unwind.
A poem without words, now that sounds perfect.
Just raw feeling. Not a bouquet, of letters wrapped up with pretty string,
just a tad of this and that, yet presented accordingly, beautifuly,
just enough to fit everybody’s taste. A well done experimental dish.
Fantastic.
I’ve been a poetic romantic piece of shit, I’ve been more than I was and less
I’ve been everything and nothing and now I am this.
There is a frog sitting in a pot of water that starts to boil and it doesn’t realise until it’s dead.
When there are no eyes to be opened, since all that stares back,
are empty sockets, mockingly black.
There a
I walk alone in the plains I call home Watch the sky turn red before cold Sun drowns in mirages down below, and I wonder if any of my rhymes even matter She sinks low, she sinks low I'm freezing and I know they don't That emptiness though, let me explain The loneliness and fullness and the endless void Stretch, stretch still, sand screaming, scratching We're just beginning, toes adapting Blisters as loud as you can muster But the desert is not pale enough The desert can't be wide enough The desert is not big enough So I will walk, walk the unknown Let's dream of the many reasons why I was born As the horizon is torn and black seeps with scorn The sun is down But I will crawl I will breathe as long, as when, as human, I cry so I guess that must amount to something Something as I travel Travel through the plains I call home
Surgical and patient, first you seed and try and bloom
Fruit comes from the bone,
Though
Flowers grow best if you maintain them.
Crimson desert, empty landscapes, I look out, the horizon tilts
I watch as my fingers dance while my guilt builds.
So lovely, lonely as we are,
we don't need text to describe
there is no need for this poem or rhyme,
done, lost and we'll subside.
Evaporate, if you will, hah, seems like a funny word,
gone is better, but who cares, another blur.
Either way.
We're together, and, and...
and ever so alone... what matters.
Pieces of us, broken and scattered.
Hey, love, do you mind?
I'm sick and crushed and I unwind.
A poem without words, now that sounds perfect.
Just raw feeling. Not a bouquet, of letters wrapped up with pretty string,
just a tad of this and that, yet presented accordingly, beautifuly,
just enough to fit everybody’s taste. A well done experimental dish.
Fantastic.
I’ve been a poetic romantic piece of shit, I’ve been more than I was and less
I’ve been everything and nothing and now I am this.
There is a frog sitting in a pot of water that starts to boil and it doesn’t realise until it’s dead.
When there are no eyes to be opened, since all that stares back,
are empty sockets, mockingly black.
There a
I usually draw. Pencils and black markers.
Most of the time I draw characters I invented for a story I am writing together with two awesome persons. So they all have a story.
I also draw J-rock artists I like for special and all different reasons.
But I usually draw scary stuff.
Also, I'm very sarcastic. Sorry about that.
And I like cats. That, wasn't sarcasm. I really, really do. Like, for real.
Jesus christ I suck at writing journals.
I usually draw. Pencils and black markers.
Most of the time I draw characters I invented for a story I am writing together with two awesome persons. So they all have a story.
I also draw J-rock artists I like for special and all different reasons.
But I usually draw scary stuff xD
I also edit on youtube (animated music videos), and I usually take clips from anime's (japanese cartoons) and put them on music in a trailer-kinda way.
Usually its all pretty scary as well.
Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/user/M0oranshi?feature=mhee
I usually draw. Pencils and black markers.
Most of the time I draw characters I invented for a story I am writing together with two awesome persons. So they all have a story.
I also draw J-rock artists I like for special and all different reasons.
But I usually draw scary stuff xD
I want to invite you at my page I start a poll ... please vote ---------> [link]
And if you have time... I would like you to participate to take my Kiriban 50k pageviews, you can win an illustration of a value of $ 30 U.S. come to my page!
your arts are awesome! Also, I love your MMV..will you ever make something with Shusei/Hotsuma from UraBoku? I just can't stop watching your works, they are amaizing! ;_;