tw: blood, gore
she's a scarred one
slashed across the face
the sickening scent of blood that
roils the common gut
and the taste of iron drying on teethair whistling from fang to fang,
soft hisses, as if someone got a paper cut(pouring blood in buckets, dear god)
and a girl with strange eyes asking,
"d'you fancy a fag?"•
lmao what the fuck is this!
YOU ARE READING
paraphernalia
Poetrypretentious poetry. FOREWARNING: this was written over three years. my style changes dramatically, as does everything else. quality of pieces varies.