ܠܝܠܐ

avulsed are thy hands, himeros helplessness is orgasmic to thee i am but a piece of porcelain to be cherished the throat of mine, an open grave

fear not the carcasses, fear not faces of the corrupted, i am but a vessel filled with lachrymae as thou hast said, i will feel appreciated

thine eyes saw the flesh, so imperfect open throat, the pale, wan thighs i am but a semblance, a copy amongst copies malisons bound to be laid upon me

fear not the coldness, the words fear not the bloodloss, the love for i have feared love, and i am loved e'en in the end, all will feel love

i am sure that hell must be cold. @mothercain @vacillator

photography by enfants riches déprimés (automne/hiver 2024)

edited by: layla

hayden (@mothercain) for highsnobiety + edited by layla ✝