hold on, we're going home
red lipstick, liability and lies
❝𝙔𝙤𝙪, 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄𝙨 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚❞ 𝘔𝘢𝘺, 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺. 𝘔𝘢𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯. 𝘈 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯; 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭. ⋮ poetries for...
a downpour of thoughts, a delve into the most intricate inner-workings of my mind 2020 © rosy
have you ever seen a slave in gold chains? i have never seen so much golden slave flesh melted and turned to candle wax.
stitching storms into lovers' thighs (poetry #1 / prose #1 - 061120) © VANGOHS, 2017
✭made in a girl's bedroom the year twentytwentytwo ✦ God save our youth