prettytomboy-

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 

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 

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 

a small token of kindness [18th october 2022] 
          
          dawn a soothsayer, a bride of doom; filled with bruises and exploited ceremoniously with venom. 
          own the ruin, the plum horizon; lungs wrapped in a veil, dripping with yesterday's childhood. 
          compulsed crimson, a yellow sun of a blue sky; jupiter sunset and a forced fate; a smile pushed. 
          telescope and hope, caul and ambedo; none with breaths but held to breasts; what are they i ask you oh layperson, what are they but a wet ground, nothing without seeds that you sow. 
          some apples of autumn ripen in baskets, in hands of bare veins; why not then your heart, one that you allow to decay in your chest? 
          children of soil, of dirt and death; musk in hearts poisoned by the snakes of mind. 
          tongues of meat, foiled with pillows of sin; with a darkness wild, with a moon of satan.
          a burning candle, a taste of soiling relief; spring is but a month, winter a mundane monster begging for everlasting love. 
          october ocean, free of burden; what is beneath it, let it melt into corals and pearls. not all fires reveal ashes, most reveal precious stones. 
          pelt intentions into blushing summer colours; into oaks that bless and bones that grow maroon flowers.
          lose not sugar, die not before the meadow ripens; earth parched, but air left unclothed. 
          home the bones, fracture the heart as it has abandoned you; let it betray, silently, like the water of the sea that asks it, how much salt it had to swallow to become a gentler beast. 
           #adropofhumanity 

Small Motivation ❤️❤️❤️ <Beautiful Followers >
          
          
          "I hope you find the kind of moments that take your breath away. The kind of moments that change you. I hope you travel to places that cleanse you; I hope you go to concerts that ring through your bones and make you feel alive. I hope you connect with the small things—I hope you look at someone mid- conversation and you feel your stomach surge with the feelings you have for them. I hope you surround yourself with the kinds of friends that encourage your spontaneity, that are always there for you. I hope you live. Truly. I hope you don’t hold back. There is so much to feel in this world. I hope you feel it all."
          
          "I can tell you firsthand that loving yourself and your life is not an easy journey. You’re not going to wake up one day feeling better about everything. You’re not going to wake up one day with this sudden confidence and energy to tackle the world. 
          
          It’s a process. You’re going to have setbacks. But you’re going to get there, I promise."
          
          You can rise up from anything. You can completely recreate yourself. Nothing is permanent. You’re not stuck. You have choices. You can think new thoughts. You can learn new things. You can create new habits. You can make the decision today, and never look back.
          

you're indeed pretty hun,you should always say that before sleeping and after waking.Love ya smile<33

a small token of kindness (13th February 2022) 
          
          burning soulmates, strained hopes; braided yearnings, captive dreams. passion- borne blood, water an invisible vesper; moon a poet's literature, soil a paper of hunger. a predator, a musketeer, a thunder; a matchstick, a street of bougainvilleas, half a nail lost, flesh to rust. 
          
          worn arms, ragged pleasures; clean madness, innocent errors. veins of solitude, beats of courage; a farewell to religious laps, to a moon with brave life. mistakes and spaces in ribs, hearts choking in sin; rhetoric trees and murdered portraits in lights of the quiet. 
          
          ashes of nursery amethysts, stories worth centuries within; glass of a new born fist, hope dangling over a pit of abyss. authentic prison, protection from  touches; suspended lungs, pessimism a curse blind. foetal hearts and shrunken graves, suffering mirrors and homely miscarriages. 
          
          evolution of art, sugar theft; white oleander tickles and bleeding disguises of virtues. a city of ciphers,  mountains of parables; consumed violins, bruises of metal and blood. to the eyes find that nothing old or worn, and for the hearts that see no flaws and prickles, there is no death. like the moon and the sun that have not aged; human hearts as these reside as the 'oud of time. 
          
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (08h February 2022) 
          
          vanilla tides, porcelain skies; insurgence of the ganges and anatomies birthed in the womb. lavender pulses, foxgloves of disappointments; afternoon intoxications and stings of moon's salted craters. covenant slippers of sweat, storms of acidic sin; limbs of serenity, heart a serpent's spine. 
          
          wandering knees, furnace meadows; prairie blades, malbec- blurred palms. atlases of ribs, the eyes a stoic bleeding blues; firmament of human organs, the universe a galaxy with it. violent emotions, frigid compromises; people water, their bones abandoned orphans. 
          
          kolkwitzia like the thames, fossils of fame; life a cloak of melancholy, unlike death, of invisibility. today a parlour with letters wordless and addresses of silhouettes blind. nascent blooms and dainty gravel; how much of the truth kills one each day, how often does one lie to not develop resentment to himself? 
          
          febrile offsprings, universe a glory of margaret ache; home a graveyard, ages and agers buried. an emblem of bones, a cremated constellation; mind instructed under a veil, sky a chest of God. sun and the moon, a mind of two names; sisyphean creations, limited incantations. why is the sky allowed two wings, why must a human heart be caged with none? 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (23rd January 2022) 
          
          a castle of despair, a window of home; a pane of terror, deperate hair shadowed by glamour. five hundred corridors of warped walls and monster roots, orchids etched into the shortcomings of madonna. femurs of frozen mulberries, violet trees; empty ghosts and suburbia covenants. follicles of water children, a scarlet prayer; statis of jimbled seasons. 
          
          tongues slaughtered, teeth of ecstacy; palms of pheromones. saltwater caves, ocean fevers; lichen peaces, hyperboarean shades. burn, burn, rose fleshed and warm; feral and pearl and tenderly blanketed by a grave of faults. violaceous horizons and newborn girls; summers of paris, pigmented  resurrections. 
          
          is it not a privilege to be consumed by strips of soil and ancient wounds? drunken floods and wary mirrors, barbaric chalk and devoured freedom. sand from a sandalwood slipper, forgotten in the heavy waters of fluid frocks; a momentary memory, a saffron strand from rare Harberton field. 
          
          the surrogacy of a father, the veins of sage and cord of lapis placenta; a meadow of elfchens and sweetened lungs of cocoa. grace a pond of lotuses, sip and sip and sip. a bottle of fog and fostered wings; poisoned funerals and lilac libraries. broken with pink haze and littered with rotten ashes; the heart must exist. in the ribs, in the cage, in its shelter. it is disaster yet is hope, drop it not, it breathes copper and tolerates iron, it suffocates on metal and consumes the devil. lives that are bent are protected, they cannot be broken by death. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (19th January 2022) 
          
          sentimental shine, freezing light; desire to communicate, despondent oakmoss. ventricles of the lungs, roads of the woods; one of the blind, the other of frost. caffeinated blood, impure stones; classical truth, the days of rebirth. hope a commodity rare, mind a spoilt child; alabaster abyss, dogwood a page of flower petal. 
          
          window of east, juliet moonlight; scars of birth, marks of sight, yells of silence and procured mortality. sinking identities, what are we in search of; what are we shaped with, grieving pomegranates or bleeding heavens?  
          
          blessings of invisibility, rippling shadows of the moon; marigold tomorrow, a hue of today's opal soil.
          the wrath of earth, the suns of our sins; robin beginnings, a foetus reborn. shells of a wolf, vermillion wicks and witch's brew; humming sunsets, rain from fingertips and water of the heart a rainbow in the sky. 
          
          magical blooms and stamps of saturn, barefooted nights and castles of sand; touch of autumn, bodies of russet thunders. the souls the angels of heavens that cannot be seen by naked eyes. is that why people are deemed to be art? — fields of jaguar flowers and burl wood stars. like the nature that is haunted with its art of storms and hearts, are the humans haunted by the art of their souls that carress them like letters from God? 
           #adropofhumanity