I love all things dark all provoking, touching, reaching, slightly beyond the bounds of the normal where the light will naturally shine.
I want all things beautiful all lovely, lingering, eternal, lifting high into the cloudy kingdoms of fairy and extraterrestrial.
I am all things lost all removed, confusing, unsure, stepping lightly in the alleys and the rooms of both strange and familiar places.

I wish the three knew how to collide in peaceful but pleasing resonance.
I don't know what I'm saying
drunk and covered in fur
I'm lulled and stupefied.
I had this saved as a draft from an hour ago and I definitely don't remember typing it but I may as well share.
Dark languid creatures in dark lavish rooms, Lost listless voices pulsing as one, with no past, no future, Gliding above the ground, blood thrumming As one, the crowds, the masses, voluntarily deaf and dumb.
You're gone again and I know the feeling, a familiar lingering pain.
I knew you'd leave, it's not your fault, but it hurts all the same.
They say you're doing good, serving our country's valiant goals...
but the system is corrupt and its hard to pretend we're not selling souls...
I've been prepared for this for months, but now that you're gone, it feels so much more bitter than before
CastorPolydeuces Jun 2018
Tummy full of worms and mind full of death
A wriggling roiling pain and painfully bad breath
I am not your babe nor a pristine lass
But I’m certainly the skinniest in this ****** up class
(Not personal not indicative of any struggle, just a thought I had while trying to sleep)
CastorPolydeuces Jun 2018
In the mirror I am grown.  Fully, and wholly, a human being.
Looking inwards I am small. 12 years old, marveling at the person I’ve become, and the person I somehow was and still am.
Separate, side by side, I exist on multiple planes, in many directions, through all dimensions, different but constant.
The same.
I think my 12 year old self would be glad I was brave enough to dye my hair and pierce my flesh. I know that sounds weird, but she was so timid, always wanting to stand out, but afraid. I still am afraid, but I’m bolder now.
CastorPolydeuces Nov 2017
Windy blues and tortured greys, my nights are leaking into days, and over mountains cold and dreary, my bones are shaking, dry and weary.
I pray you hold your flesh close by, lest it catch the wind and fly.
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