Blue

A hardened seeker of love searching for his next heart break --- Everything I write is a reboot of my own soul. ---

[blue-is-dead]

Prometheus Blue

I have this character,

He's strong, stronger than I am.

His name is Prometheus Blue.

He has yellow eyes and black hair.

I go to him when I feel lonely or afraid,

Because he beleives in himself like a god

I could never do that.

[blue-is-dead]

Spring breeze

The tall grass swished happily in the warm spring breeze

The sun reflected of the dew drops deposited from the previous rain;

A couple had worn a deep path in the grass, it led to a similar clearing;

They laid on their backs, the freshly laid water cooling them;

Ephemerality held the moment, tugging on it gently.

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Thoughts #2

Everything I write is a reboot of my own soul.

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Blue's symmetry

A small molded man;

Formed by my two fingers.

A petite form rested next to Blue

The two padded feet of the Finger Man.

A foot rested on her chin

The other foot rested on her lips

The form giggled.

The lips were pink

A step:

A padded foot on her nose.

Her cheeks turned pink.

Another step:

A padded foot between emerald and ivory.

Eyes rolled at the sillyness of the man.

Another step:

A padded foot below soft strands.

A final step:

"Your face,

It's perfect."

A finished moment.

[blue-is-dead]

How to make love:

Now I've given this alot of thought.

And i really do beleive.

That love is something you can make.

It just takes skill and time.

I promise.

Wait...

Sorry I'm in the wrong place.

I don't know where I am.

So here's the truth.

You can't.

[blue-is-dead]

Regina Spektor

"I'm the hero of this story, I don't need to be saved"

[blue-is-dead]

Something I may use one day #3

A hardened seeker of love searching for his next heart break.

[blue-is-dead]

An Erroneum #2

These are the vowels of soul-

Sink to the brink of Wink,

The moor with a stone floor,

A flood with brooding blood,

A ringing wooden door,

A putrid pang of pestilence,

Dandelions and spring,

And purity incarnate.

- So why are they spoken in droll?

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This.a

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Something I may use one day #2

Ah yes oh lover-of-a-god use that desperate mouthpeice of moral malignancy.

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Something I may use one day #1

He is, and forever will be

The birth and death of dusk and dawn,

the inbetween of the inbetween places.

And this curse is fated to a new immortal.

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A sincere question #2

What's your last thought?

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Thought #1

If we could all understand eachother with a single glance the world would be void of villains.

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A sincer question #1

Wouldn't knowing everything get lonely?

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An Erroneum

The moor with a stone floor,

A ringing wooden door,

And lastly

Dandelions and spring

[blue-is-dead]

You are my world

You, mine to bare and mine to hold, deserve my world. But my world is full of brimstone and fire, yet it is still my sole pyre.

I apologize, but don't lament the loss of this lovers thought; for only the brashly bold may bring their burning bones to anothers home.

I retract my statement of sour sound.

You deserve the ground of the heavens and the damnation of your heathens.

It's tricky to ryme that reason, but i assure you heaven rymes with heathen.

[blue-is-dead]

Free baby shoes, never used