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Ishtar. [40]
I'm there and I'm not. Something awful. Something lost. The scratches and the bruises that we shared. I love and I don't. I'm lost and i'm not. I am and I disappear. And stuff get in the way. Old organs from the deep. Fresh desires of the light. And I lurk around doing my best to top the others, the clowns and priests alike.
je suis là sans y être vraiment. près du dégoût, près des cicatrices. celles que nous partageons et que j'aime sans aimer. je suis là et je disparais, sans savoir si je me perds dans le processus. depuis longtemps j'ai abandonné les vieux organes pour embrasser la lumière, mai
Dizzard. [39]
i'm at the end and i want to forget the roller coaster of insecurities. my parents are looking at me, but they have lost their eyes in the last storm. when love is blind it feels cold, insensible to what i can be. underwater and attacking everything. feeling that oxygen is the enemy. in my head, there are unnamable things. (i wanted to write monsters, but i'm afraid to be a monster so i don't write it. and i'm trying to show control over this idea by telling you about it.)
at this point, i feel like taking the hate and the disdain. mine or yours or theirs, i don't care. i'll feel it, munch it and feed on it for weeks. coals and diamonds. sti
Hemmender. [37]
Mr. Night at the end of the rope. the beast at the end of the rope. rot and props. sad of me. sad of you. and a gray yarn around our legs. can you feel it? cold rope and autumn is broken. i want to do a one-picture-by-day month. october or november. the ember and the tears.
about the DD. http://dosvidania.deviantart.com/art/mythologies-299769759 it's exhausting and i've learned the word "bombastic". it's not one of my personal favorite, but it seems that people enjoyed it. / réapprendre à apprécier la psychanalyse. et les enfants meurtriers. et les bouches parlantes de meurtre. et les silences d'entre-lèvre. et les distances longs couteaux.
Warchalking. [36]
the weight of rust. at the end of chains, the hanged community is debating. and the vultures are waiting for the appropriate act to move. they were dreams in the morning. indigestion shadows cockroaches. drama from the underbed. unraveling all my words. being scared of what they might do. against you, against me. the ghost in the machine. where you just watch your self act in the light of the projectors. the light of the day. where fear equal night.
et tout ce qui peut mourir tu le sens. lents les sillons et tes mains qui cherchent une forme qu'elles pourraient reconnaître. avec toujours cette peur en corps d'à un moment frôl
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magnifique ! vraiment très beau