| the world forgetting by the world forgot. |


father faust.father faust.father faust.
i.
you are listening to the heartbeat of the child you left alone.
and you may not know it, may find yourself in the car down some deserted street at eleven pm with speakers singing soft to you but you are hearing my heart beating from someplace in the north where we do not speak and seldom love. and you may refuse to speak of me or my latest life, how far i could have come in just three short months, but you think and you hear and i beat along inside your chest in the quiet car moments or right


night terror.night terror.night terror.
a crash course on human nature: discontentment, lust, destruction. we rinse and repeat. i knew a soul like it was my own, once. we were in perfect sync throughout our years of discord. shells, we were, buried in sands the colour of ash and we found eachother through sheer coincidence. one and the same, two rings of silver worn over time until there was no shine left within us. we would walk our paths of dust for days [never running. our lives were chasing a short space behind, but we never ran] until there was no grey dust left to wa


my sweet, my songless.my sweet, my songless. my caged bird.my sweet, my songless.
phaedra has strayed from the path of good sense. i know a place in which there are no questions no tongues to speak, no eyes to explore and in its dark centre there is a puzzle that will not be reassembled. there is a spiderweb stretching from east to west in which i lie immobile and knowledge paralysed. i am the ugly duckling of truth (read as: i have trouble expressing myself things i know but cannot prove, an endless spray of saltwater against the gaping holes in my soulmeetsflesh.) in order to get an image, you must know sy


salinae.salinae.salinae.
oliver, the sun won't rise for another three hours or more and you have me rapt until she wakes the treebranches and windowpanes. do you have the time to teach me love? i am not so well versed, but i've heard it means the following things: staying cocooned in the bedsheets until noon has passed. notes on the fridge door reminding me to use the opened milk. letting me think you forgot my birthday, and surprising me three days later with lindor chocolates and a pack of morinaga sweets and a night curled up on the couch with the foreign movies i love so much. talki
| don't cut me out. |

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She's a pretty girl, does she make you think nasty thoughts?
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i'm gonna add you to my watch list, just taken a good look through your gallery and you've got some amazing pieces.
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30 amnesias; après moi, le déluge. Je suis désolé.
project reciprocation: [link]
take a good look down.
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lovely lyrical lines.
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