173 the tortured poets department where i used to lay my face

like alucard, "i'm interested in this," i say as i open a new tab, injecting the poison straight into my veins. what a terrible life to have a curse. the fire illuminates my face. the ocean lost its third dimension. it's flat, melted into the sand. i'm too high for the beach. "the horror of it all," i plead with him, "i can't stand it." he looks at me confused and asks what. what horror. i walk to the edge of the cliff and scream until i wake up in the back of a car

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173 the tortured poets department where i used to lay my face

173 the tortured poets department where i used to lay my face