December 2010
4 posts
1 tag
Shattered
Lost and found in a vortex of lust.
Soaking through, gliding past the masks of unspoken past.
The end is embedded in the beginning.
I have a room where into no one enters save me alone.
Your dust and bones sprinkles in the air I devour.
The arsenic fueling the madness.
Dying is an art. The Death of Art
1 tag
Self
No concepton of the origin of reflection
of the idea.
How can it be my thought if I do not know the person inside my head?
We are not even acquaintances.
I am at peace with myself but I will always be at war with the stranger.
The Outsider, the bystander.
I am the war general, not the vessel.
I will find you out and destroy your spectral presence.
Smrt.
1 tag
Vault
Forget that I’ve hurt you
put strangers in our bed…
feels like I’ve been here
many times before.
Another funeral, another girl left in tears.
The broken down vault-
snowflakes frozen over.
Falling, melting on your eyes, lips, hair
going nowhere.
Anonymous asked: You are really fucking gorgeous.