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Now I vomit cum and diarrhea
On the tile floor, like oatmeal-pizza
Fill my toilet bowl, full of a cloudy puss
I feel the blood, becoming chowdered rust
What is even the point of this? It's obviously fake.
Little white flowers will never awaken you, not when the cold depths have all but overtaken you.
Dearest, The days are all so long,
and in the shadows I spend them all.
My heart and I long for slumber.
Slumber I'm caressing you, I bless your touch, I lust for you.
Slumber you are not a dream, Not as much as you seem.
- Joao <3
What is even the point of this? It's obviously fake.
it's called a fucking joke.
_______________________________
Now I vomit cum and diarrhea
On the tile floor, like oatmeal-pizza
Fill my toilet bowl, full of a cloudy puss
I feel the blood, becoming chowdered rust
I don't get jokes about a baby girl being murdered.. That's sad..
Little white flowers will never awaken you, not when the cold depths have all but overtaken you.
Dearest, The days are all so long,
and in the shadows I spend them all.
My heart and I long for slumber.
Slumber I'm caressing you, I bless your touch, I lust for you.
Slumber you are not a dream, Not as much as you seem.
- Joao <3
I don't get jokes about a baby girl being murdered.. That's sad..
"I don't get" people who make it an obligation to maneuver every situation into dismal melancholy.
_______________________________
Now I vomit cum and diarrhea
On the tile floor, like oatmeal-pizza
Fill my toilet bowl, full of a cloudy puss
I feel the blood, becoming chowdered rust
It's not every situation, but a baby girl killed in a horrible way such as by her own mother. Yeah, I'm not gonna find the fun in that.
Little white flowers will never awaken you, not when the cold depths have all but overtaken you.
Dearest, The days are all so long,
and in the shadows I spend them all.
My heart and I long for slumber.
Slumber I'm caressing you, I bless your touch, I lust for you.
Slumber you are not a dream, Not as much as you seem.
- Joao <3
"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love."
- Washington Irving
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