Ty
I cannot read your mind,
Your thoughts are closed to me.
They don't leak into your eyes,
Your smile is a fake for the world.
With such a
The builds between us.
I try,
But you have me beaten.
Your walls will never crumble to my love.

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This journey is filled with stars & stories. Stars of all kinds, big & small, orange & purple. Stories, too, of all kinds. Stories of my ancestors. And theirs. Stories of trees, & stones & rivers.
It's my journey back in time, which simply can't be a between us.

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Smell of pain killers & sedatives. I miss the glow of your face in the waltz tunes coiling around my senses, the sweetness of the nuditas virtualis.

I think Emma Bovary, the daydreamer, the nuditas criminalis par excellence.

Who are we to judge?
Who?

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Her teachings strewn like scent of petrichor
She shines through sunrays
Trailing frm GatesOfHeaven
Her memories float like lilac meadows
Sprouting seeds of calm
Singing lullabies through my poetic songs
W/out her spiritual presence
I wouldn't ve survived long
~
Miss U Mom

33 118

One day, a feather arrived at her doorstep. The next day, another. And another, & another. Then, a pair of eyes arrived. A beak. Legs, & claws. Over a week, the feathers became wings. And slowly, everything came together to birth a bird. She named it Mysterie.

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The towered over wings spread wide enough to encompass the sky, protecting, gaurding, yet cutting us off from the other realms
I yearned to this pristine city
Its perfection a cage
To explore the beyond

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💜TY for all your tweets today!💜
We'll announce next week's
theme on Sunday.
Until then, follow us
& share your featuring a
w/a
✨DRAGON, UNICORN or Other FANTASTICAL CREATURE✨
SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!

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Glassy dreams
of rapture
unplanned and ambiguous
Spirit concierge
peels away
tapestry of reality
Envious filaments
rock spaces
between the lights
Optics burn
with desire
The sage,
he slowly writes

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"So...no?"

"Listen, Bertram, I get that you want to help the church, but I said I wanted an on how to increase the size of my flock, not my herd."

It was then that John began to wonder if his call to ministry hadn't actually been a wrong number.

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Deep in the unconscious
lies an inception.
Sprouts into abstracts,
symbol and imagination.
Urges, inspiration,
inclination, propels direction.
Will to expression
and manifestation,
to arrive at formulation,


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into the burrow
of dreams
dig, dig, dig
squeeze
delve into the deep

which stories
whose faces
what places,
do you find?

live, live through it
dream or nightmare

let old desires re-#animate
let old fears dissipate

down into the burrow
deep, deep you go

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Desire a will to manifest
&
Creativity a will to form
Stand alone abstracts
perceived but not owned.
Convey by their chosen medium in conscious expressions which then are subject to judgement of right or wrong.
But in the abstract stages both are always

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An dewy morning
Slithering snakes driven into the sea
Then an excruciating sunset crosses its fingers
I tempt fate
A rose contours the shape of my thighs
Red
Dissimulation of an afternoon sacrifice
The sky dies in the convulsions of your "whys"
Why, love?

76 240

I engaged with a Harlequin
On a weird wondrous stage
A piper scribed our lines
Our nerves he did assuage
We didn't know if his drama
Would be light or darkly tragic
But critics agreed his talent was true
Or could it just be magic?



🎨Luca Tranchino

9 31

The River of Time
As above, so as below
The currents rage on








📷 Pixabay | KELLEPICS & illusion-X; Motionleap animations

1 5


Story my own. Artwork created using Wombo Dream app

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