synthexe

[synthexe]

[synthexe]

isolation, hubert marot.

[synthexe]

there are some Things going on in the hallway

[synthexe]

Horror art by Stefan Koidl

[synthexe]

[synthexe]

[synthexe]

[synthexe]

moodboards east coast team

[synthexe]

Shepherd’s Hut

[synthexe]

Pushing all your items to the side of the room will give an airy, almost museum-like feel and will result in much more space to play with!

[synthexe]

[synthexe]

ig: @20.aliens

[synthexe]

Poetry Inspiration Moodboards | a cheap motel

There is a holy fire inside of me that burns all the persons I have been to the ground.

[synthexe]

[synthexe]

Futuristic Lunatic

[synthexe]

A distorted future

[synthexe]

He kisses like he’s won a war. Hard, hungry, victorious—breathless, like he has spent the past years fighting and only now has he stopped long enough to catch his breath. His hands grasp—                                                  at arms,                                                           at clothes,                                                                      at hair— like you are the spoils of the battle, and he fears losing you to the demons that still snap at his heels. He kisses like a man afraid that this will be fleeting, insubstantial, and will abandon him,                     just like his parents did. He still wears the fears of a child, jumping at shadows, flinching at raised voices. But Everything will be alright, you whisper, and your voice is gentle. You are his rock, his shelter, and he, the disbelieving victor, scarred and bleeding but finally home, home.