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The lucifuge
Category: Writing and Poetry
The last fawn in the forest, The last gazelle in the savannah, The last krill of Antarctica, stalked by feline fangs, ursine claws, » Continue Reading
Aracnea
"Drinking sangria"
Eternal 22 years. From a kingdom where spring never sets
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Aracnea's Blog Entries
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Drink me, but conserve me.
Category: Writing and Poetry
The sun kisses her hollow lips, her marbled dark circles and cosmic drips, my body receives her like a sweet fountain of milk, white and lively, the trails of the crystal, » Continue Reading
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After my sweet downpour
Category: Writing and Poetry
The undines bloom, after my sweet downpour, sliding down my cheeks, they crash on the floor. My tears are hard, » Continue Reading
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The night was created for monsters.
Category: Life
Now that it's winter and the sun isn't a problem anymore, I've been going out more often. Terrible idea. People tend to look at me with faces that I've been able to decipher a few sentences from with my poor hand-reading skills, and this is wha » Continue Reading
Heartbreaks in Eden
Category: Writing and Poetry
Hearts rain down, like scribbled roses, in their branches there are fangs, and lamenting voices, crimson drizzle, » Continue Reading
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With their winter portals
Category: Writing and Poetry
The foggy paths know how to keep secrets, with their mournful lament, they relate unfortunate desires, while the moon hides, the fog sp » Continue Reading
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Strepitous porcelain heart
Category: Writing and Poetry
Give me your heart, and I'll make it a part of me. Give me your blood, which was once yours, but was » Continue Reading
Angels do not suffer
Category: Writing and Poetry
Tell me I'm your angel Tell me I'm your angel Tell me I'm your angel Tell me what am I? Who am I? » Continue Reading
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The ballad of the mists
Category: Writing and Poetry
Your lips are gagged by your last breath, closed like a stone coffin that will never open again. There will rest the winter music of your voice, the ballad of the mist of your throat, the promises you dedicated to all » Continue Reading
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Oatmeal for breakfast
Category: Writing and Poetry
The milk is warm and its aroma is a delight, adorned with » Continue Reading
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Friday 13th.
Category: Writing and Poetry
Friday the 13th, an insidious day for those who live on the cliffs of Lima. It is said that in winter, if by chance you fall beyond the ravine, your death will be sweet, you will enjoy the soft blow against the rocks, the crystals that are forged in the frozen sky will riddle you with the » Continue Reading