there is no end, you only decide when to stop

lightly drifting on time

feeling the continuation of life as every moment has a point of no return

like a black hole stinging what ever “barely touches” its 

only to not kill it, but travel it to another place at a different time

where the good live in great places as bad experience the worst

the trip to the next

oil pastels

Just Chillin’

oil pastels

(via b-urningcity)

we’re all just animals

the friendly passer

a gentile rough grasp
after the friendly pass
to inhale trapped paradise
held together by paper rice

it rushes to it’s desired destination
it’s excitement creating sighs on expiration
the provoked cloud rises slowly
converting sin feelings into holy

from fire to ashes
from herbs to essence
just with a moment or some seconds
within the near future comes the feeling from the heavens