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ββπ« π±π₯ππ± πͺπ¬πͺπ’π«π± π₯π’ π«π’π’π‘π’π‘ οΏ½οΏ½οΏ½π¬ π π¬π«π°π²πͺπ’ π₯π’π―, π±π¬ π£π¦π©π© π₯π’π―, π±π¬ πͺππ―π¨ π₯π’π― ππ° π₯π¦π° ... π§π²π°π± ππ° π°π₯π’ π«π’π’π‘π’π‘ π±π¬ π¬ππ’π« π₯π’π―π°π’π©π£ π±π¬ π₯π¦πͺ, π±π¬ ππ’ π‘π’π°π¦π―π’π‘, π±ππ¨π’π«, π¬π΄π«π’π‘."
ππ΄π«π’π‘ ππΆ @graveyard-greaser
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She a pyre incarnate
Incinerate
An inferno
Turned to flesh
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βWe are witnesses with both too much and too little feeling.β β Anne Rice, Blood and Gold
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I find myself drawn to her shadow domain
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The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sereβ
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year
β βUlalumeβ, Edgar Allan Poe
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Let your flesh become my canvas.
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Lazy sundays are the best kind.
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Home is wherever you are.
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Don't you think you are sexy, I do!!
Most days I do. π€·π»ββοΈπ
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New boots.
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