1. There is no more fear. The roots of fear are unknowing which branch to travel. Which and why each exists and which will bloom into fruits beneficial to your will and morals. Or will you travel to the very tip of the weakest stem unable to bear the weight of your sins.

    There is no more fear. Any color scheme I choose will eventually blend together from the lightest hues into the blackest of blacks. No use for my visions here. No use for imagination. No use for fear.

    Jugga
     
  2. Afraid to look. Afraid to peek. A glance a chance and a glimmer. Of stars shining and I make my wish into the pit where all wishes fall through never to be seen again by mortal eyes. And there my faith dies along with my visions of gold and silver and bronze. The split path crossed at the same time. One mind and heart seperated into two beings both spectral, almost godlike. An immortal death. The opening of Pandoras box unleashing the most serene and beautiful storm ever to behold your eyes. Calm but always constant, the undying will and music from Newton’s Cradle. The rage of lady moon as she coaxes the waves upon the shore. This inconsequential task, a relieving sight to behold.

    Jugga
     
  3. A single file line coded into pages of existence by the mother herself.
    Who was to be, now in the present, gifted from her imagination on to her own flesh and blood on which we have each marked.
    Countless stars falling, failing. Raindrops filling oceans that never grow
    But a mothers love is never failing even as you bleed into her skin
    All her sons and daughters buried there inside wooden sins

    Jugga

     
  4. 01:48

    Notes: 2

    Tags: poetry

    Abstract poetry

    Ingenuity cousin to insanity

    Quick blows making marks and scars upon the white canvas of your walls.
    The same blows that the wind carries between each seed planted among the great trees of history.
    Intensifying blows drumming the beat of waves engulfing the shores in shades deeper than blue.
    The same noise from inside rooms you’ve already left. A message in morse. Contained inside a glass bottle drifting in the seas of insanity.

    Jugga
     
  5. Abstract Poetry

    I took a sip of holy water and my eyes have been cleared. Noise of the world breached as the silence reaches my ears. And my mind has been cleansed from the Devils tongue. Spirit ready to leap. Instead hunger has replaced all worldly instincts. The type of hunger that will never sate, but grow more and more each day. A quest for knowledge and a journey towards wisdom. The clues, a trail of happy candies along the way to my impending starvation. Unto my irreversible extinction.

    Jugga
     
  6. When I get old and someone young offers me their seat im going to decline politely and say, “I’m old. I dont have many more steps left to take. Take a seat. You have many more to go, and you’re going to need a little rest more than I do. Trust me.”

     
  7. 19:49 17th Aug 2014

    Notes: 6165

    Reblogged from madhare

    image: Download

    madhare:

Sometimes quiet is violent.

    madhare:

    Sometimes quiet is violent.

     
  8. 19:48

    Notes: 641

    Reblogged from atypicalhipstaa

    atypicalhipstaa:

.

Crawling back to you

    atypicalhipstaa:

    .

    Crawling back to you

     
  9. 03:48

    Notes: 170

    Reblogged from myfairytaleeverafter

    myfairytaleeverafter:


More?

Shameless Plug: Styles & Prints
     
  10. 03:39

    Notes: 125368

    Reblogged from timothydelaghetto

    (Source: arcaneimages)