FULL MOON THERAPY.

MODERN DAY TRAGEDIES.

[ ☆彡 ]

i. scathing skeletons and flushed cheeks bite into chafed skin, praying that they find another day in their seamed glass bones because drinking 3 bottles of juniper berries couldn't flush out the dancing demons in their mind, shouting at them to wear cherry wine lipstick and dress like powdered dolls for their synthetic lovers, so now they're left to char the sunshine into their veins so they can be beautiful for one more goddamn day.

ii. star crossed lovers with bronzed skin and midnight blues who have been taught that their infatuation with one another is really just confusion so they choke on their distant vowels and write poetry with their nectarine tongues across each other's tethered soul instead of confessing that girls love girls like boys do.

iii. faint compositions of acrylic bodies chasing after the lavendar moonlight in hopes of being able to catch a cinematic shooting star before it disappears like all of their 11:11's they wasted on their crystalline lovers and selfish fixations that lacerated their salt wounds.

iv. heartbroken saints and sinners letting out their bleeding screams of the memories they try to drown into the same pallid bathtubs where once old lovers would fill them with vibrant desperation until every inch of their skin would swim in sweet reverie.

v. black bouquets in a cracked vase wilting like the sanities of caustic adolescents who are trying to walk on thin icy platforms with their heavy hearts and brittle bones, hoping they don't crack under the pressure of redundant dejection and screeches of midnight terror haunted by their own flesh.