Gracula

(n): grass eaters.

Living on pot, these species want nothing more. They come out of their cribs at night, looking weary, red eyed, droopy slugs, scavenging for pot. Sense of smell is their tool, and if you have anything of the sort around you, beware they are coming for you. You won't know from where, you won't know how, or when, but they will come.

i sing to myself

shadows in the sky
looking weary on

winds running through
caving in, too few

||| groovy stings are tuned,
bees with honey fumes|||

life lingers.
in the making.
jazzy fingers.

then Gregory retires

A Working List of Things I Will Never Tell You - Jon Sands

"You are a shadow my body leaves on other girls..."


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http://exceptindreams.livejournal.com/176573.html

Make Everything OK

:)

The magic button — Make Everything OK

Romance will soon be ours

18:00

The crystal ball illuminates
And the golden syrup drowns

Thickening the blood with absinthe mind
Envy takes over
- the gluttonous kind

Up-side down then go the flames
Deeper and deeper, burning its way

The future is shown. Claimed.
The shut eye. Till again. 

grated granules

When a grown man commits a series of crimes,
his neck doesn't fit the tie.
He whispers into his ugly locks
to let the blood of the lost drip drops

Cringing his nerves and cracking a laugh
he thinks his luciferous ghosts have passed

But under the dried up skin he knows
his crimes surpass, but the criminal masts - writhing the holy

Squeezing through dots of grey and black