๐๐ข๐๐๐ก ๐๐ฅ๐๐ฑ๐๐ง๐๐๐ซ. โ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ค๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐ฝ๐ก๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐จ๐ฅ๐๐ง.
Existing solely to chase the electric storm of sensation, charting a course through pain and pleasure, leaving a trail of broken souls in the wake.
Dominic Santoro.
โThey say that to forgive is divine, but if you look closely enough into the eyes of a man who has lost everything, you will find that he much prefers the satisfying architecture of a well-planned revenge.โ
Mature Content.
Love isnโt blind. Itโs blood-blind. I carved no oneโs name into my arm and dipped a rose in it. Left it beneath a strangerโs window. Maybe yours. If you find it, donโt call the police. Whisper my name like a prayer. I might answer with my hands around your throat.
๐๐๐ข๐ง ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐ซ๐จ๐ข๐ฑ โขโขโข
In the end, she did not disappear into the rain. . . she became the rain, washing away the lies one drop at a time.
original character โขโข mature content
๐๐ก๐จ๐ซ๐ง๐ฌ ๐จ๐ ๐๐๐ฌ๐๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ข๐จ๐ง
๐๐๐๐ฅ๐ฉ๐๐ง ๐๐๐๐๐ฉ
Fairytales only work if you stop asking who planted the thorns.
https://t.co/78A6L9vR7Z
๐๐ข๐๐๐ก ๐๐ฅ๐๐ฑ๐๐ง๐๐๐ซ. โ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ค๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐ฝ๐ก๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐จ๐ฅ๐๐ง.
Existing solely to chase the electric storm of sensation, charting a course through pain and pleasure, leaving a trail of broken souls in the wake.
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ข๐ฆ๐๐๐ฒ ๐จ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ข๐ง
๐๐๐๐ฅ๐ฉ๐๐ง ๐จ๐๐ซ๐๐ฃ
Between noticing and understanding, there is space where most damage is done. https://t.co/RTdDtFhznh
โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โขโขโข
The cigarette burns slow between my fingers. Dawn hasnโt cracked yet, the cityโs still asleep below, all those breathing bodies dreaming in their cages. Me? I donโt dream. Not anymore. The only thing left is the ghost of something that used to ยป
other than my own pulse. Funny, how thatโs the only thing that ever made sense, the one thing I couldnโt ruin, because I never owned it to begin with.
The cigaretteโs down to the filter now. I crush it against the concrete. No point in lying to myself. Some fires donโt ยป