(no subject)
he died tonight, it was as though the world pushed a hole through his beautiful young face, they kept pushing and chanting until he couldn't take it. when he left, the white room turned even colder than it was before, and foggy from the young girls tears clouding up the windows. you don't know who he is, but just keep his spirit in your head, in your palms, or where ever it feels the most comfortable. if you can't look straight into a spirit because the thought of death scares you too much, keep the spirit in your hair behind you and tie it up. it's there, and you can hear it sometimes when it's dark and you're alone in your room, you can hear it after the santa anas leave and a new wind comes around, it sounds sad and familiar