[ ☆彡 ]
sublime love has never found its way into our souls but tell us to paint the town red and we'll slit our mutinous bodies and show you the real definition of our he[art]s if that's what you like because the only way we know how to be one with the universe is to hurt ourselves and call it human nature.
//
[ melancholy loves us and that's okay
because at least we're being loved. ]
YOU ARE READING
FULL MOON THERAPY.
Poetry[ POETRY/PROSE ] juvenile stories of irascible paper tigers and their sacrosanct lovers.