Passing the bled leaves of autumn between one another,
As tokens of memories. Wrought nostalgia in dusty cracked clay, moulded by crooked weak hands, bones flung against dirt, smudging the faded blemish black.
Gnashed blossoms, promises of sweeping vastness broad upon a raw world green glistening; clutching mountain roots, cracks flush through the courageous stone, pouring the shadow in a flooding pounce, the hurtling grey makes hands clutch at torn petals.
Taken fragrant shards in softly bitter folds of skin, pouring drops of dust upon shivering mirrors, their faces lost in a fluterring rush of future.
What exists only exists.









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-_-Do i Look Like Some One Who Cares What God Thinks-_-
are you familiar with dabs and myla?
they are from melbourne.
are they on dev art as well?
Melb rocks hey.
they run a gallery in melb. by the name of...crap,haha..i forgot the name.
i can get the gallery name and all that later.
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care should be taken when selecting a signature [link]
Your gallery has been visited on behalf of
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Big shoult out from Sydney, Australia!
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YARGH!
"Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing ever happened."
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