vanilla scented poetry

careworn and smiling with a crooked grin, adoration slept in the wrinkles beside his eyes as he observed the mosaic beauty. she held his callused palm in hers and whispered to the moon; "tonight, we're monsters." romanticism isn't always beautiful.

when there's too much, and you're going to explode. he can get in your mind and turn you insane. he steals lives, and has fun doing it. but his mind isn't immune to his own tricks, and he's just as weak as anyone else.

there's bravery in being soft

my poetry smells like mint and lemon and tells all the white boys to fuck off ©KELLY2017

johnny is the exception (to the numbness). © JUGULARS 2019

stitching storms into lovers' thighs (poetry #1 / prose #1 - 061120) © VANGOHS, 2017

after dark beautiful things grow and fester, kissing your mouth, eviscerating your insides.