#fallaen

IF FATE  is in the hands of some unseen entity  -  shrouded among cloud  &  haloed in golden divinity then the sins of roman godfrey are amounting tremendously  .  my sins will rise serpentine  -  with an open gullet calling like the black void of forever  ,  if fate is real i will suffer long after my body has been recycled to mean something more than i ever could have  .       ‘   fate  ? that’s a good fuckin’ joke  .  ‘  a laugh sounds darkly seraphic  ,  rich  &  falsified  ,  always with the irony  .  roman shakes his head  ,  a hand runs absently through the order of his hair  -  sleek  ,  precise  .   ‘   you’ve got one hell of a sense of humor  .  ‘

     “     you know what thought i hate most , out of any other that just . feels like it’s gotta pop into my head , at the most inopportune time ?     “     but then , he’s also grateful for it , reliant on the way it preserves his sobriety , when it comes to his decision making .     “     the , what if i’m wrong , one . that’s very human of me , isn’t it . it’s not the worst thought out there , i’d say     ---     it’s helped humanity to make it this far , huh . still . i wish it’d mind it’s own business , sometimes .     “ 

I LOVE ..... CYCLOPS HAHAHAHAHA

I AM ALWAYS ON THE PROWL  ,  MY TEETH ELONGATE BEHIND THE RED OF MY LIPS  &  THEY ARE READY TO FEEL THE FLESH SEPARATE BENEATH THEM .   i know the word hunger on even a cellular level  ,  i know it like something sharp  &  twisting inside me  .  it is incapable of understanding some tender sentiment like mercy  ,  satisfaction is some unobtainable concept  ,  forever spiraling out of grasp  .  marya morevna shapes herself into something like a woman  ,  her mouth a pretty slaughter  ,  her eyes glitter with punctuated intrigue  .   ‘   if you buy me a drink then, perhaps . . . i will indulge you  .   ‘  

BARE YOUR TEETH GIRL  /  WOLF                    break the back of the world  ,  feast upon marrow  ,  upon a cleanly opening throat  .  make it share in your misery  ,  spit your cruelty like a black paint  ,  let it sink between the grains of the wood  ,  it will always remain even when the color is faded  .  alina offers only a fleeting glance  ,  her eyes are ravenously frigid  ,  her voice equally as chilling .        ❛    I DO NOT  need your help .     ❜

Until the good fight led to ruination--until it led to death and much of it. He remembers one of his Father’s earliest condemnations, Ye Shall Learn Of Nothing But Grace And Mortality, For Ye Exhibit One and Humanity The Other. It was his mantra for a time, until it wasn’t. Until Angel Radio turned into a thousand little screams in his head and all he could hear was death--and none of his Father, his Father who was now absent. And still he obeyed--still he obeys, even now, faced with the Rebel, his Brother, the Light Bringer himself. All these years and all these deaths, the angel of Thursday-that-was had for Lucifer the same question he had asked Father, all that time ago. 

Contemplative and quiet, but not meek-- ‘ Why? ’