ΰΌ - ππππ¦ | π‘π’π π’πͺππ’π― 8, 1998 π΅π©π¦ π¨π°π°π₯ π΅π©πͺπ―π¨, π π΅π¦ππ π¨π°π₯, πͺπ΄ π΅π©π’π΅ πΈπ¦'π³π¦ π₯πΊπͺπ―π¨ a spasm of thoughts and the moon continues to wane. to sleep is to fade away, held together by fragile strings of stingy lavender and painted islands. it's 1am now and my mind wanders.All Rights Reserved