WHO'S TO SAY WHETHER WE ARE GODS OR NOT? ss18, 20160307

living proof that art is fluid in form ___________________________________________ a poetry anthology written in fruit juice and cheap ink ----------------------------- in loving memory of the past @timespieces copyright 2018

remi, 2020

boyhood, withering beneath a wild sky (#37 in poetry 12/11/17) © vangohs, 2017

drop by my house at half past noon; we'll make small talk of murder over chamomile tea © VANGOHS, 2017

What started as a fun party game soon turns into a living nightmare from hell itself, literally. Colette didn't want to summon a demon, no, it was her drunk friends who decided it would be a fun idea to play a game in her house where they mess with life on the other side. That's how Colette finds herself being "haunted" by a demon who is determined to taint the pure girl. Unfortunately for her, she has no idea how to get rid of a demon, especially one that is intent on seducing her and is hot as hell.

A Hades/Persephone retelling. How often do you catch yourself wondering how somebody's touch would feel? How soft their hands would be as they caressed your entire form, how sweet their lips would taste when they descended down to yours, how diabolic the touch would become as the hands would drift lower and lower? Persephone often wondered the same thing. [...] She saw the nymph playfully push the satyr down on the soft grass before straddling him, the sheer fabric of her garment highlighting her graceful movements. She heard her giggling and the satyr's amused growls and her green eyes widened when she saw the satyr's hand wander underneath the nymph's skirt. Perhaps, she should have left the moment she realised what she had stumbled upon. Perhaps, she should have return to her field of lilies and picked some flowers for her mother, Demeter. Perhaps, she should have but she didn't. ❁❁❁ In which the dreadful King of the Underworld steals the daughter of Spring. All images belong to their respective owners. Source: Pinterest.

I kiss your eyes so you will recognise me 2016, adriana © (p #48 - 140117)

i squeeze the tar out my brain

yūgen fantasies laced in velour reverie