Enough Said. For years, It's been a never ending tidal of waves. I've burned sketch books. Thrown them into the ocean. Over the past four years, I've grown to utterly despise my creative imperfections to the point of no longer drawing by hand.
Lips of red.
Smeared over the chin.
Decorating her dribbling little fount of a porcelain mouth.
Rounded by molded human fingers.
It was her little supple mouth.
Her bottom lip slightly cracked and dirtied.
Labia above seemed to be perfect.
A red line gently moved across to dignify her labia.
How cute she was; Not.
This doll in an odd barb wire cage.
Decorated morbid like with rotted fingers.
But on her head..was a crown.
Not even Jesus could handle..what was on this dolls head.
Many..assorted eyes were staring out.
Green, Amber, Blue, Black, Brown.
Staring back at the people who stared.
A ring of very delicately rotted eye st
I'd figure I should also start posting some of my poems. Going to Post the One by One.
Feel free to comment.
Black. Dim. Cold. Cricket.
A girl lingering on a computer screen.
Hearing nothing but the lonely ticks of a clock.
A shower running in the dim backround.
Noise. Decorated an brooding eternity.
To drown herself in the sounds of night.
Howling winds creating the sounds of crying ghosts.
Between the eyes of the women.
After the television shuts off by itself...
Darkness. Nothing but the obscene glow of the screen.
The sound of trees gently moving to her whim.
What was the sound of scratching?!
Oh it's only a