Placeholder: You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom

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@generalpha

Prompt

You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom

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1 year ago

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Kandinsky

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7

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608 × 912

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Poetry has no place for a heart that's a whore And I'm young and I'm strong But I feel old and tired Overfired And I've been poked and stoked It's all smokethere's no more fire Only desire For you, whoever you are
There's more to living than only surviving Maybe I'm not there, but I'm still trying Though you hear me I don't think that you relate My will is something That you can't confiscate So forgive me, but I won't be frustrated By destruction in your eyes As you're staring at the sun
You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom
Behold the visions you have seen. That which you have viewed. That which you now view. “Complex, isn’t it?” Viewing that which was, ye have seen the age of science and logic. They ruled them you know… Yes, ruled… Those bible-thumpers were put to rest, don’t ya know. And… From rubble and slime and filth… Science but… an Arcadian civilisation!!! Yes, yes… eh… They had a hand in you, too, laddie… Yes, they did! And wot do ye think happened? I’ll tell ye wot buddy ‘appened! For a millenium, science
Poetry has no place for a heart that's a whore And I'm young and I'm strong But I feel old and tired Overfired And I've been poked and stoked It's all smokethere's no more fire Only desire For you, whoever you are
Poetry has no place for a heart that's a whore And I'm young and I'm strong But I feel old and tired Overfired And I've been poked and stoked It's all smokethere's no more fire Only desire For you, whoever you are
There's more to living than only surviving Maybe I'm not there, but I'm still trying Though you hear me I don't think that you relate My will is something That you can't confiscate So forgive me, but I won't be frustrated By destruction in your eyes As you're staring at the sun
I'm tired of fighting another man's pointless war So please keep up with it just like you have before I can tell by the look, you mean what you say Like a sentimental crook, it's tough to get away If it even would matter, I would play every part But I'm too overeager and I just false start Oh sister of pearl, I wouldn't change you for the world
Poetry has no place for a heart that's a whore And I'm young and I'm strong But I feel old and tired Overfired And I've been poked and stoked It's all smokethere's no more fire Only desire For you, whoever you are
There's more to living than only surviving Maybe I'm not there, but I'm still trying Though you hear me I don't think that you relate My will is something That you can't confiscate So forgive me, but I won't be frustrated By destruction in your eyes As you're staring at the sun
In a place where no one ever came close to dreaming about... a place from a foaming brain, there is a tiny ripple of truth that duplicates sanity to reality... existence of self-pity and triumph! This is a long gone dream in which only lost souls find mercy from a god of an insane creation! Blowing cold winds that come from an uneven breathing pattern warm the frigid core of the sun! Rotting brain from inside the brittle bone of an old branch impatiently waiting to outgrow the sky… You are lost
[coffee] In the Inn, the smiling hobbit worked behind the bar. Though small in stature, none was more joyful in service. His eyes, bright as sunrise and always upturned in mirth, inspected beans from distant lands. From the machine poured drinks like liquid gold. Each shot drew from him a chuckling sniff, scents of exotic hills filling his head. With care he textured cream, lips still smiling as lofty peaks crowned. Patrons gathered round pots steaming, laughter echoing as in a hobbit-h
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