goodbye, my love.

I can taste the revolution on your skin 2016, adriana © (p #58- 040117)

This is the death of the nice girl, the disillusionment that we ever needed to be one. They expected us to crawl to them, with palms up and legs open with perfect pretty painted faces and oh so sweet smiles, what a show to behold, what a horror to live. But I clench a knife between my teeth now, grinning ugly and bloody. And I'm never nice.

we don't know us anymore.™

i gave a boy a lavender sprig and he returned me with a kiss. ©achillics

error 666 teenage minds out of control.

a natural hierarchy

stitching storms into lovers' thighs (poetry #1 / prose #1 - 061120) © VANGOHS, 2017

careworn and smiling with a crooked grin, adoration slept in the wrinkles beside his eyes as he observed the mosaic beauty. she held his callused palm in hers and whispered to the moon; "tonight, we're monsters." romanticism isn't always beautiful.