These used to be parts of the day that didn’t exist. Wordless and worn out. I’m falling over. Prop me up with moth eaten limbs. Drape me over a wilting frame. Let these bones be my cage. I’m awake when you’re asleep. You’re always sleeping.
supported by 6 fans who also own “And As Her Hand Slowly Crept Up My Spine”
I don't even know what all these genres even are but this is some good shit.
edit: I actually do know what most of these genres are, about two years later. khonsu00