Desperation

                                                  No one knows, when it snows
                                           how does winter fake a smile to stay alive

"Breathings", by YourForgiveness

http://yourforgiveness.deviantart.com/art/Breathings-287836594

http://yourforgiveness.deviantart.com/

When your candle light will cling to darkness

and your frozen lung thaw in despair

The Calm Project - Lonely Architect

Loneliness

I could've found this foster island

in the hazy throat of a fugitive dream

Dusty veins of summer's prow

crawl between the winter's row

"until it hurts", by shamanski

http://shamanski.deviantart.com/art/until-it-hurts-374021061

http://shamanski.deviantart.com/

Remember me when you're gone...

Movie Review: Oldboy(2003)

http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/oldboy/

In this harsh life, realities should be perceived in their raw splendor. Perceived and consumed at the same time. Like the writhing tentacles of a live octopus, that feed the goblinesque appetite

Lupe Velez in a publicity photo for The Broken Wing (1932)

As long as my ill fate is conjured away by the truth of your gaze

Movie Review: The Frozen Ground(2013)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2005374/?ref_=nv_sr_1

We may be far from the genre's heyday, still it is clear to me that "The Frozen Ground" diffuses the whiff of a grim and dreary catatonia, so frequently encountered in the masterpieces tagged under the serial killer onomatopoeia.

Nicolas Cage stars as the morally integral state trooper

From Lust to Dust

Original Artwork: "Go Away Bad Dreams", by Philomena-Famulok

More info, in the links below:

http://philomena-famulok.deviantart.com/art/Go-Away-Bad-Dreams-395607565

http://philomena-famulok.deviantart.com/

I saw the Ocean tonight
He had a scission on his chest
and the city lights were hanging from his tiptoes
How Time bursts in the stir of your echo...

As the vapor of the children's laughter
draws circles in the morning dew
i smell the essence of your fingertips

Orbit

The sky travails tonight in birth
A new star is about to spring out of his womb
Will you let the children paint its tail in their dreams?
I really wonder

I met a woman once
She was carrying the cocoon of a planet
between her breasts
How time flows, how pain rows

Bring in the mold of my candlelight
i saved the fears of a newborn star, inside
i buried the moth of my dying love, inside
Who's there to blame?

I'm now left alone to linger, out of your breasts' grasp
dreading to go astray, falling in my decay
The Earth flees my cocoon
i'm a lonely planet now, derailed to my own demise

Who can escape the howl of silence?.. Hush now, i am flying...

Original artwork: Alabarda Siderea, by Blekotakra

More info: http://blekotakra.deviantart.com/

http://giorgianapoletano.weebly.com/

Prelife

I carry your sultry fright on my shoulder
trying hard to laugh and go unnoticed
Day in, day out
i wanna get there, in every direction
i wanna get there, to heal your feeble inception

Time stands still in the night's bleak frown
while i search your affection
It's my feet of clay i stumble upon
as your grasp bursts from the Earth's hollow section

My laugh flees, in search for a lane
to erase all life from its perky expression
I thought i'd sent this dread for a stroll
as your coffin made a tilt towards eternal ascension

Who can blame the night's peeling glow
it's a frame, to seek no attention
As the Moon dries your farewell, Lo!
a new Sun bleeds in every direction...

Imogen Cunningham - Veiled Woman, 1910-1912

A Fish Tale

Do you ever consider becoming a fish?

It only takes a gill of saltwater in your memory

and your lungs, switching to a pair of gills.

The rest, remains the same.

You smell, you feel, you love or hate.

It's just that you lack the memory of all!

I guess, that's the way guilt or pain flows to oblivion...

... And i'm now, too old to repent

and too soft to endure.

I just need to breath... again.

Portrait of Evelyn Brent by Charles Gates Sheldon c.1928

The Time is Restless

Time fetches the seeds of our primal retribution. I know i can conjure the ink of his fester. All i need to do is adorn his wrath with the only vein, that's left feeding my heart. The one blessed with your terminal tear, the tear you gave me the moment my spear pierced the very edge of your soul. Then, we will be together again... till all seas of sorrow run dry.

Ominous litany

And then came the gloom... and the birds in the skies formed the sad minstrel's circle... And they wept for not recalling the caress of the wind... the scent of mint... the grace of God.

One by one, they plunged to their doom, their golden feathers bowing to the almond tree, flourished deep in the winter's heart... for one last time...https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMTk60o_2xI

Dreadful inertia

A long lost agony, ensnared Mina's tantrum. For Mina loathed what light brings forth: Eternity and desire.
She was living for the moment, encapsulated inside a splinter of instant dichotomy, caused by the alienation of the senses.

A dark mind is not an insane mind rather than one that has lost the ability to experience the momentum in sensationalism. It is a bog, filled with the filth of inertia. A sensuous mutation that twists the ability to identify the source of the stimulation.

Darkness was not the source of her fears nor death itself. They were just by- products. Mina dreaded Time!
Time as an undisclosed factor of guilt, while savoring happiness and its delights. Death and pain and darkness are caused by a crack in time while appreciating life in all its splendid doom.

There is no turning back, after consenting to this intercourse, between the first seed of guilt and the mind. Mina did this and by consequence, she closed the first small window of her soul that was shedding light towards the doorstep of her whole existence.

A beacon lit in her doom. Her journey had just begun...

Artwork: "...quoth the raven, nevermore..", by ~myebe
myebe is on deviantART: http://myebe.deviantart.com/

The Evening Star

I want to talk to you now about the moon, about the evening star. In its shade, i hide in your footsteps, fleeing a minstrel's dismal song. A lemon slice of its heart i hold in my feast while i succumb to inertia. A pilgrm's boat, with a black cloth on its mast, sails to nowhere. Loaded with the ink of our love's demise.

I yearn dawn's gory deeds, to deliver me from my purified agonies. And i shed tears of joy and i shed tears of pain. Acid tears, hatched in the hollows of obscenity. I need to dress up the gown of your fears, i need to hold the thorny edges of your dreams, inside my palms. I need to bleed for the sake of your shade. For your shade fetches the sanity of my memories.

You are there, bewildered in my memories cocoon. My darling butterfly in captivity, my love for you is a moth's uttered benison, the benison of a woman with black eyes and a white pigeon that nests in her breast. A woman waiting for me in the bright side of the moon. I want her as the seasons want tears of heaven and hell on their balcony, lest a pilgrim's boat, loaded with the ink of my love's demise, sails towards the gory deeds of dawn with a white cloath on its mast. With no sea gull, fleeing its minstrel's dismal song, to forsake its past...

Original artwork: "each with one player", by ~myebe, on deviantART
http://myebe.deviantart.com/art/each-with-one-player-289642147

Abysmal Journey

There is no poetry in the agony of Death. Just a faceless snare, just a shapeless lair...
deep in the dungeons of our soul

And the eyes bleed the ink of despair
like two dark swallows with black cloth on their mast
crying "my Death i sail to Thee... at last!

Original artwork: "Eyes of Soul Death", by ~peterle28

http://fav.me/d60nt68

What do we seek, what do we spare
to snare the leak, in our morbid fair...http://nikgml.tumblr.com/post/46947137738/the-astral-lodge-tell-courtesy-of-nikgml