𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. (@stellaesque) header
𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. (@stellaesque) profile picture

The dark side of the moon has written poems about my nights. | #aesthetic. rp/parody. fake.

Joined February 2021
Photo by 𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. (@stellaesque)Photo by 𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. (@stellaesque)Photo by 𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. (@stellaesque)Photo by 𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. (@stellaesque)Photo by 𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. (@stellaesque)Photo by 𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. (@stellaesque)Photo by 𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. (@stellaesque)Photo by 𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. (@stellaesque)Photo by 𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. (@stellaesque)Photo by 𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. (@stellaesque)
The applause erupts like something breaking open. What a beautiful lie it is, so perfectly sung right back to me. Palms collide, wild and feverish β€” rain striking a closed casket. It devours my silence before it can accuse me, and I am spared from feeling just for a moment. β€”
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𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. retweeted
Replying to @stellaesque
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𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. retweeted
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I doubt you're actually making coffee. Who are you trying to poison?
My honest reaction to everyone who doubts my coffee-making skills (for good reason, but shh).
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𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. retweeted
It’s quite erotic to discover someone’s true nature. Like suddenly catching a second scent from a flower.
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𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. retweeted
Some feelings linger, they keep on burning despite life, despite fate, despite ourselves. They bloom in the most deserted places in our hearts, they bloom even when one leaves them in the dark. Some feelings become a part of who we are, they’re in every breath we take, β€”
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𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. retweeted
you're a heap of flesh and guts and blood in a wax museum. the only real thing. sickeningly real. crimson and warm where the others are pale and cold. revoltingly red, nauseatingly alive. you're a child in a graveyard.
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𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. retweeted
The Moon
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This force of nature follows me, follows me, constantly calling me. The voice grows stranger helplessly, helplessly hung up on history.
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By my grace, I'm right on cue. Make a scene, I'll make one too.
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𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. retweeted
i wanna bite him
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𝘭π˜ͺ𝘭𝘒𝘀 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. retweeted
505 - Arctic Monkeys (2007)
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always follows reminds me of what is missing. On the table, I find a bottle of champagne and a card then, courtesy of Auriel. The paper carries a faint trace of perfume, almost mocking in its subtlety. β€œLet's hope we never meet again.” And to that, I would definitely toast. β€”
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Charles Bukowski said, β€œFind what you love and let it kill you.” But mine... mine is taking its damned sweet time.
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