crumbling through tangled footholds, oily stings lacerate my latex skin and exsanguinate my touch, my cold. gazing eyes in our bleeding garden 

clumps of rot skewer my commandments. urchins sinking and clawing erratic.
cold wind flauted against my skinless skull as I bow to my daedric enchantress. strain your knuckles down my throat to pull the lining past our mouth.I relish this fleshy cloak, to be fucked is to be human. I kinda heard that you don't really do this, we could hang at my place with some music. i got booze and some weed and a face and some blood and some flesh you can have whatevers soothing

he writes the truth about the garden he kept trying to build in their backyard, how it was an unfinished project, one that was kept secret from her only because he knew white lillies were her favourite flower, and how he wanted to suprise her one spring with rows upon rows of them. he imagines her face when she read the letter and finds out. the thought brings out a weak smile

I hope they grow over my grave

garden for lilith

darkneowoke trve american fakecelcore nothing is real quadrillions must watermark

soundcloud.com/techclub
https://soundcloud.com/oragami-oragami/sets/misatocore-volume-2
soundcloud.com/oragami-oragami/sets/misatocore-volume-1
soundcloud.com/effemel
soundcloud.com/nonproductivecounseling

garden for lilith

treebones