a crusader from the west with love on her hands and blood in her chest -it's not the things she does it's the words she plays that bring sweet darkness to the long hours of my days. web entangled thoughts stick to sounds in my mind -she won't leave my head, but i wouldn't want to see it go fleeting. vanity approaches but never encroaches her arrant eyes, with facade lacking her beauty is attacking all fronts. oh sweet playful spirit from a western shore a lustful crimson yields much more to spark the eyes and deepen the heart with pining allure. deafening sight, blinding sound, momentary encounters spill as rain in my palm -oh how i long to be the soup in your cloud. your presence is darker than the aphotic depths of the deepest seas, and plays sweet and warm as an auburn cello to every fiber of me. so play -play incessant and free.... and i'll bask within you my dead dark rose.
~take my breath away, and never let it return... char my flesh and just let it burn; the smell is sweeter than you know.
~take my breath away, and never let it return... char my flesh and just let it burn; the smell is sweeter than you know.
og_stinger:
I know permanent markers I went to jail because of a permanent marker. 
dusty:
your words make me feel like skinning myself alive to deal with the emotion you evoke...i cant take this...im bleeding and dying...and you live on a pinprick which is too hard for me to find...