Organized by Collection
MusesSo they speak of muses, do they? Those sickening symptoms of love, the flowers dressed in everlasting spring-time bloom, the music; yes, the music caged in human flesh. Language wrapped in letters, held together with full stops, dripping commas through the cracks of translation.
More Like This
On a warm wayward wind, in a place where such winds blow, a damsel flies freely through the ever-open window of the troubled writer, and, by some magic only muses know, takes on a gaseous state to flow through the starving composition of the creator, quenching his metaphorical thirst (although it might still be advisable to hand him some bread and a glass of water). The writer's fine tuned senses feel the perfume of the ancientseach in its own way. In a loose, heavy and hot sequence of unbridled passion, a fruit is, through much pain and strife, conceived. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present you with a slight perversion of the Immaculate Conception; most likely doubly a miracle owing to the gender of the afor