Crysanthemum Skies

i return to the wild horses within my head. And to breath crysanthemum skies while i openly weep holds no fanfare for fire. Fire can be emotionally cold as it consumes the Art within my blood. The veins of my Soul are yellow-green in color but my tongue is more.
And heart is a strong bastard
that kills me every evening as the Sun returns to tomorrow over There. Couples are beautiful as they harp upon each other’s insecurities.
Lone wolves howl in pleasure and mostly disregard the silver-white light bulb in the sleeping sky.

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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