madamepsychosis:
My witness is the empty sky.
madamepsychosis:
Accept loss forever
madamepsychosis:
Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?
madamepsychosis:
What’s in store for me in the direction I don’t take?
madamepsychosis:
That's not purple, Mary, that color out there... is mauve.
madamepsychosis:
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
madamepsychosis:
12 a.m.
