Excerpts
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Survival is key to the prolonged longevity among individuals, though only to its extent. In the notion for what is first to consider with survival, it is shelter. A common knowledge as this, though made more so in realizing what intrudes the human form quicker than hunger or thirst. It is either the intense cold
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“Repetition is a cruel splash of the hardest hail upon our faces. Of life, where moments matter more than dreams. Of love, where sadness speaks more than the moments that indeed fade. For life, a person will always gain. For love, a person will always lose.” – Peter A.W. Wyatt
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Of her, I see something starless. Still, the shadows come to me, as they ache their remorse. For I have guilt that would set an ocean atop a scale, and weigh it to Heaven. Nothing could challenge the departure of myself to where I see, with eyes that are frail, the face of her at
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“The ignorance of a human, in contrast to knowledge, resonates in the fear in distance between people. To what one knows of another, makes knowledge. To what one does not know of another, makes ignorance. This much, is obvious. However, to be fearful, would also mean to be ignorant. It is the case of any
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Can he wait? Can he satiate a thirst that continues to mark his lips with the dryness of salt? In that, he is holding onto the ocean. He is washing himself in her running suds. A love as glorious as the only-believed infinity of the universe, becoming finite just when we comprehend life cannot go
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Lisa had walked. Now, she lays. Upon a back with her eyes to the sunlight. It is her ceiling. Such a golden wash of hues extends to her resplendent, ivory face. What woman, any like her, can be she who eclipses all the stars to make the pitch darkness? Then, to create a new sort
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He speaks directly to her ear, “You are still so small, my child.” She withdraws to peer upwards to his gaze, with quivering lips and weary stare, to then commit a moment in a burning. She kisses him. Upon the lips, smooth with each waxen mouth that fires up a fever to the downing daytime.
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Love is the Devil’s madness, as it will remain God’s laughter. We describe how such an injection from a divine one, will be for humans, in their evil, to be something unlike what they simply desire. Blue is the color of tears, while green is the color of growth. Can we have the latter, without
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It is that our heroism ignites our own flag stabbed in the ground’s hole, that we know how love also feels. Oh, the weakness, the sicknesses that are raised so much like the flag, that it never stands evenly. It motions with the winds that run like treading fear through a less-than-stable mind. Love. That
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Chapter One “From the eyes of an angel, the black one, there are no more wings to look at. It is even when the sun is out or the moon is full, that the light does not come to her. In the darkness, in her own, there is only the recognition of a sheer blackness
Modern Romanticism 