-t.f.s
People weren't capable of creating light.
They just stayed behind the ashes and smell of destruction painted in a black hole.
Before it could attack, the void was a spiral that fed itself with your soul.
-t.f.s
More Posts from Leftinblasphemy and Others
Senryū VIII
I watch the world burn
through a shattered glass beneath
darkest depths of fears .
-t.f.s.
Horror.
What seems to crawl in, it crawls out
Inside of a demon summoning evil.
Dusty powder flying over the moon
creating darkness of magic in doom.
Dreadful stroke breaks within,
stuck in humanity's disorder
Inside of terrible insanity power.
-t.f.s.
REVEAL.
your luxury was worth that light my pleasure,
my imagination of you is all that matters,
the secret language for your body
took my will to hold on my sins,
forgetting all the darkness,you're
making me sick to reveal.
-t.f.s.
Night is a spectator for me and you, a life that's never a flower,but it's a waterfall reaching its never ending saga.
-t.f.s.
In the dark.
In the dark we open minds
just like a box of fantasy,
I want to take a brain trip
to your imaginary system.
In the dark we open minds,
close intentions,outside's cold,
chasing the shadows you're a hunter,
following your steps, devil's a stalker,
don't come closer, it's dark fantasy.
-t.f.s.
The Poet Beyond
I’m sorry I’m not a poet
Though I masquerade; I flow it
My pen moves too often when it is not my hand.
Indeed it is my fingers, but those lines were not my land.
There is a writer, beyond my view.
And they supply me with poems that are new.
I wish to pen, wish to spill
But my mind sits empty, despite my will.
And in moments as such, when I have the need, but not the ink
The Poet beyond my eyes offers me his drink.
And so he lets me steal from him a rhyme or two
In hopes it unlocks one of mine, in time, or a few.
But often I walk away with the whole work, and he knows it.
Because though I may want to be, I’m sorry, I’m not a poet.
(For a friend who deactivated).
Don't pull off your skin,
It's not late to go and sleep.
Your eyes seem crushed,tired;
I don't want them to break me.
Don't go and dance alone
your ghost is chasing you home.
Pick your body up with middle finger out,
don't close the curtains, don't fall out.
When I listen to you my throat aches,
my fingers bleed, too cold to take;
Where's your home now?
What time is your NOW?
Open the door ,
wishing to see you
but your body is unstable.
Where are you?
Don't lose your soul!
Take another day, lay on!
-t.f.s.
Season change.
After april's windy session
darkness vanished and sun came
rain stopped and flowers drew
each corner making beautiful view.
-t.f.s.
My favourite work.
In the cold, a snowy tundra,
An entire horizon of trees half dead,
Solace in a winter solstice
A place where I can find beauty in the death of nature,
Knowing it will grow again, but not now.
Knowing I will grow again, somehow.
Weather consisting of frost and flakes
Someday I will live in the cold,
Wether it be with someone I love,
Or not.
Part of me will feel traced inside even when time stops onwards. And yet,cold skin,cold heart- it's just because you faded,it's irrelevant.
-t.f.s.
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leftinblasphemy reblogged this · 3 years ago
