Find me in stitches and wrap me in glass, life exists here as well.

Vapor for ghouls as gold for Churchill, I suppose. Tragedy stirs me.

"How fast does the world spin in Paris?" He asks, sighing as he sips my blood from a chalice of flesh. "Ask me about Kyoto and perhaps I'll tell you the answer."

Sticky crimson things, sex garnished with death...fitting for boys who pantomime mortality. Red Soil is fertile with deep and wonton lust.

My well is dry. no more glitter for the page.

In ihren Lungen wohnt ein Aal. Auf meiner Stirn ein Muttermal. Entferne es mit Messers Kuss, auch wenn ich verbluten muss.

Destroy Once Done