evildeathpenguin

Blackest of the black, black, black tuxedos tonight, it's going to take all of Asia's jade to grey this rose. Our backs were made for nails, nails, nails and dimes are prime for exchange. "There's no martyr like a heartbreaker, there's no shame in this. I'm no lover if you're no taker, there's no shame in this." And lately we've had nothing but renaissance on the back of our eyelids. You're quite the artist. "Doll, you're a martyr, you're a heartbreaker, you're the only one to blame for this. I'm such a lover, but you're no taker, I'm so ashamed of this." You're the genious now, child, these old calendars are here to mean you're the prophe

And as it turns out, there's little more captivating than watching your own last words and whimpers float to the street, scrawled in a hasty and messy alphabet on composition paper. This apartment window is my new favorite mirror. The derelict, the poison, the life and all its confusion. The sound of your breaking knuckles against that wall-mounted porcelain sink will keep your ears ringing for days if you tilt your head right. I'm here and I'm willing to deliver my testimony to my television screen. When the ten o'clock news reminds me that my phone hasn't rang in months, that means it's time for another trip to the window. This is my fog