Her black hair glistened in the street lamp as she slowly crept toward the target. All systems go. All she needed now was the signal. She watched intently as a cat stocking its prey.
ive come so far, ive killed almost none, and i looted each and every single one of them nonethemore. i will find you, old friend, and i will take back what isnt yours, to claim whats mine and protect what hasnt yet blossomed. my friend, i am following behind in the shadows, i want honour for all.
Undetectable feelings fying through the sky.
I can´t see you, I can´t fell you.
Lorena
the nightly avatar loaded his guns and walked the plank to his ship. the ship would be his death for it will not lead him out of this stench. this stench was what made him who he was. A warrior made, only to die.
ryan
He crept into the rose garden, his heavy black bag bumping against his thigh. The fence, high black and cold, was now behind him.
It was with great stealth that the thief surreptitiously entered the building, hoping to find great treasures somewhere beneath all the junk that was scattered about the store. He had heard that pirates had once owned the building and used it as a place to store their booty when they were done pillaging and plundering.
Stealth is the artist’s secret weapon, and lifeline. The artist needs to keep under the radar, never revealing why they made the piece, or what it means. That is, if they want to be famous.
we snuck up on them. They didn’t hear a thing. Kinda felt sorry for them. They sat there cleaning their guns. Talking about nothing in particular. I remember the surprise that briefly passed on their faces before it all went down.
Moving around the rubble required absolute stealth. He crept behind the broken walls, and for a moment the heat lessened. His foot touched something round and hot; half a skull stared up at him. He stepped around it, saying nothing out loud, but in his mind, the prayers and grief and guilt all whispered together: “If you’d stayed, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Her black hair glistened in the street lamp as she slowly crept toward the target. All systems go. All she needed now was the signal. She watched intently as a cat stocking its prey.
ive come so far, ive killed almost none, and i looted each and every single one of them nonethemore. i will find you, old friend, and i will take back what isnt yours, to claim whats mine and protect what hasnt yet blossomed. my friend, i am following behind in the shadows, i want honour for all.
He had stealth. The horse ran fast with him on his back. The horse was gorgeous. It was a shade of black with one white spot on its eye.
you were kissing me with one head
and spitting at me with the other
i pray that janus strikes you down
that neither of them grow back
Undetectable feelings fying through the sky.
I can´t see you, I can´t fell you.
the nightly avatar loaded his guns and walked the plank to his ship. the ship would be his death for it will not lead him out of this stench. this stench was what made him who he was. A warrior made, only to die.
He crept into the rose garden, his heavy black bag bumping against his thigh. The fence, high black and cold, was now behind him.
It was with great stealth that the thief surreptitiously entered the building, hoping to find great treasures somewhere beneath all the junk that was scattered about the store. He had heard that pirates had once owned the building and used it as a place to store their booty when they were done pillaging and plundering.
Stealth is the artist’s secret weapon, and lifeline. The artist needs to keep under the radar, never revealing why they made the piece, or what it means. That is, if they want to be famous.
the stealth of your emotion
sinks deep into my bones
a heart like the ocean
a cavern i call home
between my ribs you pierce
and part of my world you become
and each time you express your love to me
i come slowly undone
we snuck up on them. They didn’t hear a thing. Kinda felt sorry for them. They sat there cleaning their guns. Talking about nothing in particular. I remember the surprise that briefly passed on their faces before it all went down.
Moving around the rubble required absolute stealth. He crept behind the broken walls, and for a moment the heat lessened. His foot touched something round and hot; half a skull stared up at him. He stepped around it, saying nothing out loud, but in his mind, the prayers and grief and guilt all whispered together: “If you’d stayed, this wouldn’t have happened.”