good afternoon

while in rich air and green blanket,
gold be gold until yellow vines droop,
drawing a picture of ancient altitudes
superpassing any newage rust,

songs from soul for not gold
shiver with hoarse barks and graceful glides,
melting - the sky like a reserved tomb
an ornamental stage

rolling do winds into sun playground,
what stars filter our grace shine no fright,
flickering their cyrstal polen glaze over a black canvas rose
while pettles fall softly into sleeping dreams

awake, feels the wisdom inside me

often windy

Lets walk down the slippery ledge, who cares what's left behind, ide rather be lost anyway. Every now and then a soft lust in our eyes decides to bubble, moonlight is so cliche and i have a gut feeling. There's something peculiar about that house in the valley.

what happens when a sun explodes

experiments

a man is found not within himself, rather the world he decides to envision himself within



we live in in a graveyard

of light

flow

burst

what we are affraid of holds us back,

death is just life,
life is just the slow process of death,
fuck the boundaries

lonewolf

probably the greatest photo ive come accross

days work

<


with winds they wave their wise wounds, shrouded in heavy hymns
while fields of dreamy eyes ignore their patient graves,
living in a life with no leftovers,
no regret