struck down upon by the jealous lover. the rosey colored liquid spews out like a fountain. his skull slowly blooms like a flower in spring. where there is ugly, there is beauty. where there is beauty, there is decay.
like christ, i have been resurrected. but, unlike christ, i am not infinite.
the slightest little tear caused by self destruction will break it apart the silence we share will break us or repair us who's to say silence is a blessing? when all you need is love
how can i not know the meaning of my own thoughts?