#I HAVENT WRITTEN IN. TEN THOUSANDS YEARS I HOPEP THIS SUFFICES SOBS;;;;;;

[expluere]

“maybe i’ve always been more comfortable in chaos.”

FLORENCE + THE MACHINE’S  ❝ HOW BIG, HOW BLUE, HOW BEAUTIFUL ❞  SENTENCE STARTERS // accepting !

      HE IS ELDRITCH’S ANGEL:  screaming / writhing / mourning the hot hot halo grit between his own teeth. there is a whole scorching horror located inside of him and he has no interest in that. this is an all too familiar scene for kurt, the heavy plumage of weight tackled onto the concerts of ache,  found in earth - bound vagabonds. kurt could say, ‘ finally! someone up to my speed ! ’ but this is a realm discernible from his own ; he himself is the nightingale in the seams :  he flits about and instead seeks solace in the warmth of his book. his gentle, calloused fingers that trailed the sliver of words that bounce off its own muted pages, famished of a world splintered off his skin, they make its way to the cliff of the page and turns with a harnessed crinkle.

      there’s a tender bridge to the calamity that harvests within naib. kurt is ever so mindful of this —- he is the same after all. to covet this humanity is the same to covet its horrors.

            ❝ is that so? ❞ are you comfortable? or are you so used to being weaned on chaos?                  ❝ you’re as brooding as ever !  come – have a seat! i’ll show you a sanctuary you’ve never seen before. ❞   his books.      //    @gurkhasblade