

D.r.ownwardsD(r)ownwards...D.r.ownwards
A dream's infernal kiss, lost in the allurement of the moment Awaking the sadness in this portrait made of thorns A rose's doleful story and a scarlet violin Sculptured like art; and a knife decomposing my heart...
A ballet of swans in violet satin Under an astonishing moonlight's feverish passion In fields of arcane roses; a pale reflection of your blossoming caress As snow-flakes worshipped the burden of the fall...
The grieving masquerade's ominous dance Poetry in motion, manoeuvering words in a theatre of faces A narcissist's obsession a
My friend would have sex with you if you wore that in front of her! Trust me, its a fucking good thing!
--
I am the master of the enchanted true
I'll play for your joy, for your soul, for your doom
My fingers they dance upon the strings like fire
Weaving a spell of my burning desire
--
Dec. 30, 1334.
I had a Robert Smith shirt a few years back and she almost pounced on me.
--
I am the master of the enchanted true
I'll play for your joy, for your soul, for your doom
My fingers they dance upon the strings like fire
Weaving a spell of my burning desire
--
Dec. 30, 1334.
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