A shade nocturnal in the midnight court.
Obsidian chains making sinister music as the procession approaches from the rear.
After issuing countless condemnations, she grows bored.
Finally, her eyes gently close as she drifts into picturesque reverie.
Tag: cold
Blowing through my
On memory, fantasy, and the body’s refusal to stay in time.
Congeniality
Not warmth, but compliance.
Not harmony, but smooth erasure.
A practiced ease that asks nothing back,
that reflects what is wanted
until the wanting forgets itself.
Courteous anesthesia.
A social smile pressed flat against the glass,
polite enough to disappear inside it
Untethered, Unbothered
Uncanny the way it sounds real, looks real, feels real, but it is not real. Phantasmagoria galore.
Please, no more.
No Love
Call me cynical if you must. We all have our own philosophy on life and love. Everyone’s experience is uniquely subjective. And I have an earned level of discernment. Judge me if you must.
No one could ever break my heart, because I never expected love.
the Purgatory of a Broken Heart 