You don't need to call it love.
I can sense myself changing into someone more... foul, and bad-tasting. And you know what? I am enjoying it, enjoying it. Nothing beats self-destruction, honestly.
If you feel discouraged that there's a lack of color here,
please don't worry, Lover. It's really bursting at the seems, absorbing everything.
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Previous posts
- wounded in a war of passivity.
- pure fanatical pleasure... or not!
- all i want to be... when i finally grow up.
- Are you really mine?
- our bones were chalk...
- idiot-proof.
- Pushing...a certain ideal.
- I am wildcat, you are a worm! And we are chasing e...
- Got stung, and was tongued.
- Let's make love and listen to Death from above!
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