LazilyDramatic

Thank You 
          	
          	I appreciate everyone wishing me my birthday couldn’t reply to all DMs due to wp glitch but thanks everyone. I never knew I was this famous. 

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness [ 20th february 2023  ] 
          
          blistering hope and disrupted forces, stomach of dirt and howling cresses; scraping blossoms and sunken springs. hollowed harvests, assaulted reaps; jeopardised desires and slivering skies. 
          
          mismatched woods and stolen petals; metaphorical gentleness and articulated coherence. dripping hearts, compendium ashes; ornate gale, weathered pages. 
          
          vintage eyes and handwritten libraries, fictional moon and escaped fantasies. inspiring nostalgia, doubtful guqin; poisonous inquiry, burial of heaven. vulnerability guarded, vindictive portraits; a monster of human needs, a devil of emotions. 
          
          brush-wood sprains and sinister autumns; stubborn walls and bittersweet burns. fluid memories, flamed nerves; familiar souvenirs,  a winter fued. a sadness of sharpness, bitter home in throat; caress the storms just as sadness has caressed tired norms. 
           #adropofhumanity

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness [ 28th january 2023 ] 
          
          heart that loves waters of wrinkles, a grave that loves a man of death and bones;  years of cold and hours of a backyard mirrors. floods of decades, hormones of violence; peace of unfamiliarity, an autumn of heart ache. 
          
          a jam of blue as a fight of love, a poet centuries old lurking in the present; lemons and neighbours, peaches and lungs. sins sacred before mercy, broken palms and roads of birth; sunset embroidered with veins, years fossilised with ricochet pain. 
          
          frosted letters, casual accents; love of bruised knuckles, a sip of sacred venoms. fingers of declaration, windshield dust; a lump of liability, a suffocated drink of laughter. an island where a soul sinks, oceans where the bodies bath; a thread of silk that cuts like glass. 
          
          evaporated pressure, fiery torrents; soul frozen and waltz of wakefulness. meadow of dawn, a canopy of a pleaide; frothing yearns and rippling reasons. death so close, yet addressed as cold; not every flower can be sweet, not every good heart can have enough honey. 
           #adropofhumanity 

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness ( 21st january 2023 ) 
          
          bruised october, champagne bread; weeping permissions and tightened braids. a mother of brass, windows of pages; ebbs of midnight, divided miseries. 
          
          copper sprain, malachite oxygen; birds of meetings, broken silences. venn of the woods, the wind and the windpipe; foreign vowels, submerged wrinkles. wet crayons, scents of blue; crisp metaphors and pigeon hues. 
          
          palms of desserts, midnight sober; fire that slips, a womb of sonnets. lemonade poems, an annihilating waist; casual grave, a whisper of conclusions. a poet of confessions, a sky of sin; sacred rain, storm antique. 
          
          blurry opals and cigarette soliloquies; swaying septum and a bouquet of tattood ribs. spine of butter, vinegar patio; breastbone shelter, cronus love. white doorstep, a welcome ghost; trees forget leaves, winter shrinks bones. 
           #adropofhumanity 

adropofhumanity

a small token token kindness (01st january 2023)  
          
          steadfast sunsets, crooked mornings; lake a crowd of gleaming mournings. lyrics that burn, bones hopeless; tongue of wind, it rarely stays. a future of magma, temple and cityscape; humans among humans, a home bereft. 
          
          a birth that bleeds, a firmament of fleeting wisps; feet smelling of earth, lips a facade, what we appreciate. filigree like rain, a blush of darker reign; summer distorted, desert a burning lace. panaroma of a kaleidoscope, a bard like grackle; pits of doubt and a park of frission. 
          
          jardin de tuileries, seeds of breezes; memory endearments and waves of freedom. satin scents, devoted petals; barricaded branches and canvas of dripping enchantments. convivial music, lily trenchants; reflective denouements, fulgent waterfalls of wisterias. 
          
          violent fears, chalices of secrets; numbing encouragements,  frosted vanilla. oscillating mountains, cloved cessations; tainted vicolos, bricks of dried redolences. parasols of petrichor, labyrinth of moonflowers; tower of desire, rose precipices. keep a smile, with flowers divine; they grow not on well made roads but through the rough womb of mother earth. 
           #adropofhumanity 

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (22nd december 2022) 
          
          grasp the knuckles, hold fear like gold; there is passion in black, there is a spectrum of truth in all thunders. process the baubles of celebrations tenderly, venture early through mishaps terrible; where one sorrow settles, another blossoms. 
          
          track the flames of joy and homes of tender buttresses; enjoy tunnelling paths like worms, enjoy the sport of fulgence. a rainbow of paroxysms,  with fleeting edges of juvenile feathers; two rights rarely understand one another. 
          
          distinguish snow between its home and the second, what is consumed by it is eaten by another. forge the candelabrum, halt at fatal essences; where a mind breeds heartbeats like cactus water. 
          
          swept by silence, kept by roars; what is a mind then except for a fragment of frosted tomorrow? an envelope ensconced like an island dipped in fever, carriage of blood melted in a tide of camphor. it is rough, it is a battle; what is any weapon inside a cave, a cave of darkness?  
           #adropofhumanity

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (07th november 2022) 
          
          patterns on palms and paws, warriors of lost tears; smears and sunlight immersed in veins; water and wax, both who prick sins. mind the bashful door, the silhouettes of skins unfurnished; freedom is only if the streets are not crowded with regret. 
          
          ports of integrity and boats of grace; rain a moon that reverberates, a storm and wings with their own mind. condemn the sky and its fingers of silver syllables; what cannot hold blood can only ever be vacant. 
          
          secure the horizon, wash the world with ancient rhymes; hang the throat by its heart. song of canaries, struggling cabarets; they say nature is weak where footprints are dense. here is the hand, the hand of reckoning; sometimes stalwart beneath abyss. 
          
          tides crash into limbs, limbs of salt and tsunamis; hope dragged in a slipstream, gratitude weather worn, vehement. find me in seas and mysteries; lock your eyes with the breathless cerulean. be it silly or be it the law; do not water a thorn hoping it will grow as a rose. 
           #adropofhumanity 

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (5th november 2022) 
          
          mouth of honesty, bloody honey; ravenous sobriquets, transparent metaphors. panting edicts, divine passages; unambiguous gravity, chaotic muscles. summer hunger, fermenting sun; mullein breaths, fervent dust. metamorphic roads, joyous courage; naked rage and newborn remembrance. 
          
          exuberant mountains, icy bees; conformed pollen, eclipsed wins. clavicle roots, burning prayers; mediocre comfort, hopeful sorrows. web of confidants, shadows of the known; gentle croaks, hesitant murders. mind a wild animal, a forest caged; auroras and sacrifices, reminiscent repercussions. 
          
          bodies of petunias, breathing skins; blood of stories, water of prison. white cotton whispers, kind demons; alchemy of weaknesses, battling questions. sacred dignity, waves of hormones; rituals of october, bargaining autumn. drop by drop, zest of oranges. 
          
          esprit of mother's milk, primal daughters; lust of earth, a shadow pure. work into exhaustion, round the clock and round the ; there is half of hope alive, half of flesh left to strain. cold is the night, still and mellow; cold is the sun that has wrung itself yellow. perhaps the moon curses its cries, hides in lone pain and white sky, for then it is rarely rejected; unlike storms. 
           #adropofhumanity 

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness [25th june 2022] 
          
          maps of mishaps, fortune stored in cages; where the sun has set, fate has begun its appraisal.
          past and past, walks the line of lotuses; threaded veins and hearts made of needles. 
          daisy deaths and massacres; bodies of dust and rotten comforters. 
          murky predators, red velvet throats; beaches and octobers, stubborn sea salt.
          what hurts water, how can it be pure? venom as sweet as rose poison, lemon juice and milk of a mother. 
          build a home, breathe into life, hold the thorn, hold the daffodil; keep the tendrils of vulnerability under the sky. 
          fight against the clock frozen with ink, the mind that has burrowed itself in air filled with tender knives. 
          
          as water cuts a stone, as snow rests upon the gold; a drop of tear left unnoticed in a desert. 
          hairs and springs of a fountain blue, the stars drenched in velvet; pearls that drown the earth in rain. 
          winks of clouds and veil of the sun; wars a home of the old, the blood soaked land a curse for the young. 
          petrichor rings the bell, the rain carries your shadows and envelopes; fostered flowers caressed by dirt. 
          how many a petal we throw to the forests, radical hope and cottage courage; and when the light is dim, surrender to the storm starving. 
          words and willow trees, pines and fallacies; what is empty, talks, the air and the wings of tongues. 
          how many silences are bribed with the musk of hearts; how many poisoned, entrapped, by the scar of youth?
          they say life is a journey; nay, life is a house that was once lived in; insipid and defensive. 
           #adropofhumanity 

deepthikedlaya

Nobody grows old by merely living a number of years. People grow old only by deserting their ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up interest wrinkles the soul. Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear and despair; these are the long, long years that bow the head and turn the growing spirit back to dust. Whatever your years, there is in every being's heart the love of wonder, the undaunted challenge of events, the unfailing childlike appetite for what next, and the joy and the game of life.