so this week I am stuck in bed. tonsillitis came earlier than usual. boredom and pain is a killer combo. literally
I just had one thing in my head: Tame you, then blame you; take you in, so that later I could cut you out.
I always got you dancing with the devil.
I think, that it all happened just because I actually never really wanted to grasp anyone this much. Or was it more that I purely wanted to see you crushed?
I wonder why you kept coming back, like I was your dome; yet you knew all along that I was nothing more than a shape of what was once called home. And I feel that before, I wasn’t like this… No. Did you ever think, that maybe, just maybe you were the one that made me switch?
So which one of us is more screwed? I could never decide it… Ironically, you’re still the best dancer I ever knew.
The last thing you said is that you enjoyed dancing with me too.
Endless walks in the night, laying next to the ocean at dawn and wonderfully cheap red wine. We are thieves of the night. Sneaking, climbing and rioting on the streets gently. The mankurts of normalities kicked us in our guts and away from their absurd kingdoms . But guess what… we like it that way. If stealing small fragments of the joyfulness is a crime, then please, punish us… All the way to the Penal Colony of our phantasmagorias.