It still smoulders...

Do I have to be always safe? Must I always behave? Because if I didn't I'd smash myself out on your body.
Watch it boy, I can break you faster than I can break myself. Like sugar glass, and I'll do it casually. Because what is cruelty without lack of care?

My body shrinks, and with every inch your eyes roam my contours with more and more favor. My mind and ego swell with false validation, and contempt at your complete transparency. You would think I would feel flattered, but with every swell of your breast, every sharply inhaled breath, every sly touch I am insulted.... Even though all I want is to wrap myself in your clothing and sleep through your pheromones.


My eyes burned as brightly as before. My words burned as brightly as before. My passion burned as brightly as before. My looping cursive meant as much before, if not more.
But my body didn't swing in the curves you liked before, it didn't sing with easy acceptable rhythm. Did my hips sway too widely?

Fuck you.

Choose your hipbones, and those collarbones. They'll still sag and fade. I'll have my own soon anyway. A body is still a body, and will rot at the same rate as all the others.
I'll sharpen my brain. I'll cook miracles, and weave wonders with fingers.
And I'll still love you, after all this time. And it won't change anything. We're fiery wreckage, you and I. And that's how I want it.

Astarael - The Weeper.

My voice is gone still. It rasps and scratches and evaporates, and has for three months.

Not being able to sing makes me feel like I am in a cage.

A scrapbook of sorts.

My strange new little project. It's like an emo hope-chest almost. Why I put a painting of dead angel Nico in it I have no idea.

Also, I must be incredibly creepy.

Silently you'll go to the shadow of your soul...

With every moon it is as though you're getting closer to your soul.

-Nico