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Failures often become art. And art can never fail.

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Art Failure Myself Wisdom

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I wake to find her there, with glowing eyes and tangled hair. She is my sunrise.
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Eyes Glow Hairs Myself Surprise Wake Up
She wanted romance. I just wanted to fuck the stars out of her eyes.
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Eyes Myself Romance Sex Stars
I liked her simplicity. She wanted coffee and orgasms.
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Coffee Herself Simplicity
This heart. It’s broke. I don’t want it anymore.
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Broken Heart Heart Myself
He opened her cages, and freed the things inside.
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Cage Freedom Myself Open
There’s a strange beauty in her. She shines like hell.
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Beautiful Hell Herself Shine Strange
With her, the world becomes art.
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Art Herself World
We are only beautiful monsters, dreaming of god.
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Beautiful Dreams God Monster
She’s no rose. But in her I see the beauty of thorns.
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Beautiful Herself Myself Rose See
A lot of ugly people hide behind beautiful eyes. A lot of things are only lies.
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Beautiful Hide Lying People
She was only a collection of flaws and she was beautiful.
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Beautiful Collection Flaw Herself
She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.
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Artist Myself Poetry Sex
Sometimes I wonder if these rain soaked shoes will get me home.
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Home Myself Rain Shoes Time Wonder
She’s like a jar of butterflies, waiting to be opened.
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Butterfly Herself Open Wait
I messed up a lot of things. I called it poetry.
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Call Mess Myself Poetry
True love is letting her know that her ass really does look fat in those jeans.
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Appearance Funny Herself Love True

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