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BaavraMallah
BaavraMallah
27/M a player of words. / weaver is my soul. / / with an idiosyncratic typewriter. / writing wearing an Irish hat. / / instagram/baavramallah / vsco.co/baavramallah / baavramallah.tumblr.com
the more you're attached to your narration of life, the more you are missing the comprehension; which indeed can't ever be contained or explained. we are the derivative of energies and ****** up chunk of proteins, which doesn't want to be a part of anything else but you. ' you're the biggest cover to keep and you're the biggest secret to reveal, to not the very world but very self of yours.' that's the fixture you do with narration, you never hold it; you give up on it but what you can learn is the comprehension.
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Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 10:28 AM UTC
stage, life's a stage
Tell me what you will do with those scars of pulls and pushes from the infantry of madness who marched towards your collar bones and thighs altogether at once.
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May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 12:03 PM UTC
▪regiments and nation of flesh▪
Black & white is a way to talk, a way to have conversation in, a world to travel in, a thesis to contemplate in, a kiss to taste so rare, an art too hard for a description, a language spoken by everyone in their own way.
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Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 4:22 PM UTC
black & white
-a mind is well deciphered in silence as same as fingers decipher wetness of a **** - how silently, silence enters my mind as same as his hand enters a wet ***** covering a pulsating **** -
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Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 1:07 PM UTC
****** truth
- how every smoke liberates one thought into something or, maybe a chain of musings took birth. - -how every smoke fingers my mind, while I'm busy in fondling the tales.- -how every smoke tingles the imagination, while you're busy tasting me in my head.- -how every smoke thrills inside, while you are making love to my lungs.-
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Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 12:34 PM UTC
smoke
winters bring more poems, as they cover a lot. as they make it all silent. as they brings us close to our warmth, fuming from our skins.
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Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
winters bring
internet. connections at night, awake only with highways, airports, railways and hearts that don't sleep.
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Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
belief
**we're all art. we're all magic. why to become a show for this worldly fake ticket. when you believe in nature's existence. when you embrace the universe in you, across that sky. things change, you know..**
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Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
we're magic
cracking lips. winter screams, they've been hiding in my limb. licking tongue. drying lips, while soaking in my river so thin. shining eyes. morning ding, rhyming and echoing till the brim. what they've been hiding, is all frost. what they've been shining, is all mist. It feels.  It feels. Winter is knocking.
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Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
winter is coming
not only her satin ***** was wet. his beard was drenched in her juices of suppressed madness. for a muse to rupture, on a bed or a wall is all a play, And tales of desire. " bend ", he said while sniffing her neck.
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Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
under table.