Tag Archives: eden
Sometimes you have to walk through the boneyard, in order to reach the garden. Advertisements
Ripe, the carnal skin of an apple’s flame-slipped outer layer; one bite, one tear with hungry nails, intimating the measures of ravish, indebted to touch.
Flowers pale into this storm but do not fade, to cede, in tune, as grievous winds sculpt a fierce bloom, begging a Garden’s fate.
Early morning. Turning to face you. First kiss, skin on skin, to claim holy fire coiled in mortal intimacy. I know that one day I will die to you, you to me, Time bruises softly. Sense of ephemera compels me … Continue reading
Ripe apple, shaded, beckons the encroaching light– at the core, Divine.
Eden as live bait, we fall hook line and sinker– Epitaph for love.
No one had suspected that Eden’s true location had been buried and hidden beneath centuries upon sepulchral centuries of death masks and psychic makeovers
Is this what Adam and Eve felt like, outcasts in their own backyard? In this wasteland would you just screw and screw and screw, the desperate conjugation of the lonely and damned, trying to screw your way out of the … Continue reading
It is hard to see the man and woman overexposed in the milkbath of light, but allegedly this photo captures Adam and Eve right after Eden dissolved and Eve was mysteriously knocked up.