I want death and I want to feel it beneath my skin again in sharp, loud instruments.
gilded songs, the
cool of metal in your skin
you
forget to smile in the sun
but you smile in the wind —
rain upon your lips and
here you trip
into the unrelenting storm
I wish my mother didn’t take my “I’d sell my kidney to”s so seriously, because come on, who wants this medicated of a kidney? No one. My kidneys are safe, Mom. DW.
I forgot how much I loved this song. Buy me this CD and I will do something for you that could put my integrity into question.
Anger lasts forever. Pain lasts forever, I believe ghosts are remnants of emotions and I believe so much in darkness I would’ve suspended my own heartbeat until you’d never know me.
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Anonymous asked: How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are? Sad to say but fifteen, I’m sure. |
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Anonymous asked: Have you ever seen insanity where you later saw creativity? I had a period of two weeks in which I started painting with blood from my wrist. At first I didn’t realize much that I was doing it and afterwards would stare at the “pieces” in horror, but now I like the idea of using my literal “life force” to create something and might start it back up intentionally. |
shut up shut it up we try to cut it out but its shrieking beats a bass with broken dials and no control no control — we cannot let ourselves be whole, you see: sparrow pecking holes in bed sheets opening its beak to bleed out tired songs and kissing human skin to get along with all the filth inside. we try to keep it still and we try to keep it quiet but the world does not breathe for sparrow the world does not breathe for sparrow and sparrow can’t abide it.
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