These are random drafts. I consider all my writing in a constant state of drafting, some with revision ongoing, others merely gathering dust. Some have been published but will still be considered drafts. N.B. When these posts were imported I noticed some of my reblogs also got pulled in. It should be ovious from the contents that they are reblogs from other writers. I am in the process of removing those posts.

Untitled (1541)

By -

Christmas well passed; I just today

wrapped the final parcel,

Next week if you’re lucky,

I will give; and tell rhymes,

in answer

Untitled (1543)

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behind-the-veil-of-sanity-reblog:

dreams//drama//N.S.F.Reading

I will p1ss on your grave,

in homage to your infallible,

dried-out v@gina,

I will p1ss on your grave,

and stand there in the rain,

tap-dancing alone,

I will p1ss on your grave,

dreaming of that moment,

I saw you die

Reblogging-a-post-submitted-to-the-reblog-maybe-i-should-stick-to-one-to-not-confuse-myself-time-for-a-sleep-me-thinks-…

Untitled (1544)

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behind-the-veil-of-sanity-reblog:

The discrepancy between that – which lingers at the tip of the tongue – wow! to that which gets chiselled into eternity; for prosperity – profound… to say the least,

.

..

…

….

…..

……..

[ no love; no loss ]

…………………

But I digress [?]

.

.

Whatever I was trying to say

.

.

still relevant

.

Reblogging-a-post-submitted-to-the-reblog-maybe-i-should-stick-to-one-to-not-confuse-myself

Untitled (1548)

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There was a flash,

a trigger of thought,

a vibration of joy,

as I saw the Book of Witches

.

There was a howling inside,

Wake up! Wake up!

as I recalled the urges,

and the smell of Brimstone

.

There was a path once revealed,

long forgotten; lower yields,

upon the face of Lady Death,

my Mistress; I place my lips

Untitled (1549)

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She is with the roots now,

befriending the soil in moderation,

without water and star lit nights,

hair growing; heir glowing cold,

and striped wall paper,

she longs

Untitled (1550)

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Again

I have no moral values,

No value to man or beast,

Say you what you will of that,

Yo-yo my mood; a mode of pain,

Doom’d my game; I never will play

Again

Untitled (1552)

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Better be the world of mine,

To stay away,

To shun that which burns,

Too deep the scars of late,

Too long the healing wait,

To feel again something

A craving,

Let others inherit the earth,

Stand tall among words

Written before,

I should smile at this but

Knowing the truth hurts,

so I go

In silence,

Hurt

Untitled (1553)

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If this was you last day on planet earth,

What would you drink?

As a ceremonially farewell to

The doomed place of

Birth.

I drink Stella Artois,

and jumbo salted

Cashews

Untitled (1554)

By -

Stupid Git

Covered in black carbon

Invisible to your intrusive eyes

I lurk, waiting,

Writing

Without readers,

I hide in

Plain sight,

Wondering

Why

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