Why the aliens never lack sleep.
You and I, we deserve love.
When you are on autopilot, the lights in your brain go out. They don’t slowly fade out to darkness, the light in your head goes black in the blink of an eye.
On Cornix, everything was dark, the sun was shining for a total of three hours per Earth day, and the music was a dim, sinister bass tone, howling through a cold, stormy air like a demon.
She’s waiting there with first aid, and in a way, it hurts less, because underneath the tears, we’re laughing it away. She sees my illness and she doesn’t care. I anchor myself in her, but she’s me, so I guess this makes me anchor myself in me.
Ein sehr metaphorischer Text darüber, wie es ist, Sirenenmenschen zu lieben.
My Darling, you’re not you without your past. I know you’re desperate, I know you’re hurting. You wish you would… Read more Underneath, we’re endless.
Every now and then, my world blows up and bursts in a thousand fragments. I’ve always wondered how the universe… Read more –
forest fires & flowers