(Source: tattoosofmemories731)
(Source: emmasoderman)
(Source: uniquegallery)
I am not a graceful person. I am not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2am, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nighty basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologise for awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don’t belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn’t happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don’t see the lightening, but you hear the echoes.
~
(Source: akumaousama)
(Source: sheandherdarkness)
My first memory is falling, falling through the abyss with a thousand dead men screaming their last words in my ear as the blackness swelled and growled at me from beneath, but deliverance would not come and the blackness continued to swell and then I started primary school.
