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all your lovers of summer whisper soundlessly against my collared [owned] existence. airy spirits of longing sleep unseen by anyone except me, and yet these flickers of response aren't noticeable. I? desolate and weak. my heart remains and feels the sight like an eternity of bleach down my throat or glass in my eyes or fingernails ripped or neck broke or burn marks or bites or the Judas Cradle or the Blood Angel or the Swedish Drink or White Torture or disembowelment or Scaphism except worse. The thoughts are whirlwinds, or maybe whirlpools because I'm drowning in the same way that you drown me out.
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Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 9:25 PM UTC
Lack of a Good Title
all your lovers of summer whisper soundlessly against my collared [owned] existence. airy spirits of longing sleep unseen by anyone except me, and yet these flickers of response aren't noticeable. I? desolate and weak. my heart remains and feels the sight like an eternity of bleach down my throat or glass in my eyes or fingernails ripped or neck broke or burn marks or bites or the Judas Cradle or the Blood Angel or the Swedish Drink or White Torture or disembowelment or Scaphism except worse. The thoughts are whirlwinds, or maybe whirlpools because I'm drowning in the same way that you drown me out.
SatansLittleStalker
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21/Non-binary/Between Earth and Hell
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 9:25 PM UTC
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