her tar black soul.
ask archive Much ado about nothing theme
Living, striving, rarely thriving. A bundle of nerves, a mouthful of words, an assembly of aging cells.

Fay. Young. Speaks like a degenerate cat lady. Out of it. Into it. Oxymoronically ambiguous. A panacea to excess joy. Quintessence of pretence. Likes to obfuscate whatever falls into her sphere of influence.

vendemmia: scarymum: zombiegotham: (via shanghai-trash, tjdalrud)
What moment in that gradual decay
Does resurrection choose? What year?
Who has the stopwatch? Who rewinds the tape?
Are some less lucky, or do all escape?
A syllogism; other men die
But I am not another: therefore I’ll not die  —Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire. (via nfufu)
e-m-i-l-y-x: follow for grunge. x
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