Indifferent~

Indifferent~

Convincing, unsurmountable, and unacceptable. Frayed, crooked, severe. Agonizing, altruistic, and catastrophic. Urgent, story-based, guarded. Abnormal, evil, repulsive, untamed. Impure, personal, vindictive, and malevolent. Neither interested nor involved. Unconcerned, she remains. Here she is, completely anonymous but with a clear idea of her desires. Untied, arms at liberty, eyes large, lips parted in a display of magnificence. She is now more than just a placator. Disappearing from view. She has entered a realm of unadulterated reality. With no turning back and no hopping forward. Here she will shape herself, eliminate what doesn't work, and hold on to what she allows.

Dulcet Viper~

Enter the vipers' lair and allow it to devour you. Allow yourself to be consumed by the inferno of existence's flame. Gulled wings of birds, insects, and moths—anything that can fly—may very well engulf you.

Fear does not belong in that sweet, balmy the passageway. Nothing but the viper and its delightful scent—no leftovers, no wants at all. Keep plunging into the abyss until you discover peace. Inhale the rath that is in between—the one that is deep, musky, and entrancing.

Let life unfold as it will, rather than pretending to be flawless. Think about it more than anything else. Soak in life's little pleasures, learn from your mistakes, and come out on top. Feel the burn of the vipers' pit within you as you revel in the triumph in trying again.

Tendril wounds...

The struggle to move on.

Swivet, Susurrus~

Rose raised, captivated caught, and clung to the hook line. By a delicate strand of fervor, brewing within the pulsating heart. Imagine if it were to cease, the desire, the necessity, the internalized vexing game?

Lost in a haze, immersed in a world of passionate longings—slowly flowing life within the heart of a captivating enchantress. Gazing into the depths of frozen eyes, they thawed into shimmering pools of unfamiliar emotions. Like a gentle stirring from slumber, prompted by the rhythmic beat of existence.

A solitary existence, evoking a sense of destiny and fresh starts. Whispers of odes and the gentle dance of ebbs and flows, suspended in the ethereal realm of thought. To capture a feeling that is transient, yet exists in the present moment. Experiencing the vibrant essence of life, over and over, and maybe, if faced with mortality in this very moment, one would be resurrected, mirroring these tumultuous, whispering emotions.

Requiem for a life~

Consider the state of having a mind that is disorganized. Picture sharp, piercing gazes fixated on you, tracking your each move. I don't need to imagine, for it feels like it's already unfolding before my eyes. This unruly nook, which resembles a scratch on the inside of my mouth, and these restless eyes are present.

Oh, how I long for it to simply vanish from existence. Along with the associated recollections. Who knows, maybe the patch of unpatched doubt may disappear. This pallum drum of insanity and those rumbling clouds of memory grabbing upon me.

Pretend there is no imagination, no color, and no memory of regret. Without any remorse, it is impossible to discern what is ineffective. Would it be considered criminal to feel remorse for something or someone, even if it had significance in the past? Because honestly, if there are any drawbacks, they are just an afterthought; they hold no real significance. Envision yourself completely free, with no recollection of the past or present and nothing holding you back.

A somber reflection on a life both absent and present. A brooding, melancholic existence, filled with simmering pain. A whirlwind of emotions, a feverish intensity; and breaths that consume...

𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐫.

My pain has vanished from these flower beds. Play the piano, work hard, and get something for nothing. What a cold sound it is to produce nothing and not simultaneously. It works really well in silence, smoke, and stillness. How to destroy and coexist?Will this world produce withered petals and smoking longings? I won't be hurt anymore.

Am I not hurt, clawed, or attacked? Pour into me and make me believe that this will be good, even if it means death. Petals have been around for many years.

This exclamation point means nothing but ends in some way. Precious stains, moisture, androse color remain. I want to know all over the world…