Cradle the scabrous murrhine well, will I .
Scintillate the palest muave, will my molten eyes .
But pity, not my pith . nor my gist .
Crippled to nothingness .
is this really black, that runs through these veins and splatters unto you ?????
- . pheroxia .
- .I. - .am allergic to love. .am addicted to pain, and thoughts of it. .unconsciously inflict agony. .hail tribulation. .indulge my temptations. .am obsessed with the word ether. .am still missing the white thing. .am still wandering. .am still, There.
. my personal, articulate, loyal and virulent thorn .
worthy of defilement
before the dove hit the tip of the bloodied and shattered soul of . . .
septicity
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apparently it's not a virus .
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