Skins of dead snakes exude perfume from their scales onto the dead grass bringing forth one single flower, a flower of hope and glory distant memories swallowed by time have you forgotten who you are. who you are to be, glory beneath the sullen sporadic marshes of your soul grow into mountains of possibilities scouring the essence of life devouring time. Simply set in a fixed empathetic region of wealth disturbed by inconsistent drops of contorted abnormalities bleeding into the cost
About the Creator
Johnny Gerbrandt
Love lifting, love writing, love designing. My journey is a strange one but I love it. learning constantly.
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More stories from Johnny Gerbrandt and writers in Poets and other communities.
Gods Lost
We were kings in some ages, Gods in others .now we are but dust, renditions of human cliches. vivid imaginations spreading across the vast empty calling for us to come home .but there is no home for the reviled the outcast, we have seen and know the corruption within, the taste on the tongue is as acid eating away the flesh, come see our wisdom, come feel our pain it is bliss .tantalize by the voices inside creating company within solitude.
By Johnny Gerbrandt3 years ago in Poets
Trauma Carnival
I have unpopular opinions on one of my old favorites, The L Word. First is: Jenny is my favorite character. Second: The show was originally about Jenny, her trauma, her broken identity and the way her sexuality was explored as an awakening that brought up many memories of childhood abuse.
By Melissa Ingoldsby5 days ago in Art
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