| never been so alone. |
[Jan. 28th, 2012|01:55 am] |
It's wartime every time
Small talk every time
Its my favourite chloroform
It's pillow talk every time
Get it out the way
Friction wound
( Ricochet )
Line them up, and knock 'em down
Shot away |
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| where she slowly let me drown. |
[Jan. 28th, 2012|02:52 am] |
When I go
When I go
When I go
I will stay long gone
Oh he drove all his days just to hold one against her
And then he rode to her house in the ( dead of the winter )
Say
Why Not?
Why Not?
Why not?
Why not me?
"You are nourishing.
That's what he said." |
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| miasmic |
[Jan. 28th, 2012|07:19 pm] |
each part of vespers underground had its own unique stench that permeated the air over the everpresent tones of stale water and moldy rocks. the granite inn smelled like blood and motor oil. the canal of sandalwood, cum, and disinfectant. marrow street stank of booze and vomit. today, it smelled of tequila and the stench poured out on towers of steam that rose from the wet cobblestone ( street. )
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