fim.

père-lachaise

até em paris te procurei na cara dos desconhecidos.

if i killed myself right now

wouldn't it be perfect?

all traces of your scent

would just disappear forever

and my screams would rage

free.

fuck.

five eggheads & subliminal messages

i could find a better use for this

i was blowing kisses to a dead candle

whilst breathing, sunken, the remnants

of a visceral decadence.

i miss you, you know?

dying every moment inside of you

and so it is I am beholding

and so it is I am nothing

dearest,

remember the profile of our death.

we shattered.

2 concertos,

prokofiev & stravinsky

provavelmente vou mudar de blog.