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ner
ner
magneticecho.deviantart.com / perennialweakness.tumblr.com
We were so far away. We didn't need anything but nicotine and the feel of each other's skin -- she stood against the city silhouette backdrop and became the only skyscraper in my world.
0
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
horizons of our own design
I was never very fond of my name until she called me by it. I never hated myself more than when she stopped loving me.
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Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
dependent
god breathed life into his doll, and he said to it, "inhale, exhale, put this between your lips" -- he handed it a lit cigarette and left it in the garden to die alone
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Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
a better genesis
I like to play pretend and imagine I'm important, to set up tea parties with things that don't matter so I can feel relevant, to spend time alone so that I'm the biggest living thing as far as I know. I am but a little girl, small, weak, stupid, naive, and my world is made of wishful thinking and waiting to finally grow up.
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Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
peu de
we found freedom in the waves, we found love in the wind, we found peace in the stars; we found rage in the planets, we found horror in the stone, we found disobedience in death. breathing the broken air of brothels and holding it until we reach cathedrals, this is more than a race or a game, this is pure malice and someone has to pay.
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Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 12:48 AM UTC
cruel and true
one step back (we've devolved) two steps forward (we've devolved again)
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
dissatisfaction around every turn
I find myself drawn to the dim magnetism of the fading stars, the ones who try to hide their glow, the ones who hate their dark pale -- I want to show them how bright they are, I want to tell them they guide me when I'm lost in my own dark evening, I want to prove that you can't see the beauty of a castle if you're looking out its window.
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
The Blind Spot
and her piano fingers fluttered by and down the keys, like song-note leaves on an indifferent autumn breeze, making birds out of the music trembling within the ivory beast before her; she was a paper doll and it was raining, she was moving like possession but she was her own exorcist and the demons were beautiful.
0
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 11:18 PM UTC
violent grace