January 2012
164 posts
1 tag
2 tags
He turned his head and peered through the grating at the little bowed head beyond. There was no mistaking those long soft curls. Suddenly, for one moment, the face was raised, and the large moist blue eyes met his; he saw the little oval face flushed with shame at the simple boyish sins he was confessing, and a thrill shot through him, for he felt that here at least was something in the world that...
December 2011
49 posts
1 tag
2 tags
3 tags
2 tags
2 tags
2 tags
2 tags
4 tags
4 tags
3 tags
3 tags
4 tags
3 tags
2 tags
3 tags
4 tags
3 tags
4 tags
3 tags
2 tags
Eighteen. Extraterrestrial. Glasgow.
I am a melancholic art student with hair and curls like a mermaids curse. I love poetry and prose and find eroticism through pain and beauty through intelligence.
{ 07 only: Insectivorous. Carnivorous marrestrial. }
| tags | BDSM blog |
5 tags
3 tags
4 tags
3 tags
6 tags
2 tags
2 tags
4 tags
2 tags
2 tags
3 tags
Le Goût du néant ( The taste for Nothingness ) — Charles Baudelaire
Et le Temps m’engloutit minute par minute, Comme la neige immense un corps pris de roideur; — Je contemple d’en haut le globe en sa rondeur Et je n’y cherche plus l’abri d’une cahute.
Avalanche, veux-tu m’emporter dans ta chute?
Time blots me out, as flakes on freezing bodies fall; I see...
3 tags
2 tags
3 tags
5 tags
3 tags
3 tags
5 tags
3 tags
5 tags
3 tags
3 tags
5 tags
6 tags
7 tags
“I am a bug, and I recognize in all humility that I cannot understand why the...”
– Ivan Karamazov, The Brothers Karamazov