2015. november 19., csütörtök

Until I scream

                  All that lovely darkness around him, the smell of the smoky room, mixed with his own, unique fragrance. Its like a buzz, like a big buzz before sleep or death.
                  Freaky disorder. Like stepping into my own nightmare, more likely when my own nightmare is entering deep inside me and keep pushing. Until I scream.
                  Love with him its pretty much like possession. I feel like a bit dying each time. His kisses are itchy, like morphine.

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