#plague doctor meets mardi gras mask

[tai-janai]

aw hes so patient and willing to give you a second chance ^^

Behold and quake in fear, the Nightmare equivalent: The Elegy

[belladonnaandulriched]

aesthetics

the mirror never lies: razor blades on the floor, a house of mirrors, old bone china plates, a cafe on the corner of 82nd street in new york city, your bed on a cold winter’s night before you climb in, kitchen knives, the wishing for a hug, the northern lights, fresh fallen snow at sunrise, one of those large wooden hourglasses, hazard lights, an emo phase that never was

burning sacramento: tule fog, a wooden cabin, tall pine trees, the smell of pine coupled with a camp fire and dust, old books, a brass hurricane lantern, that book you’ve been wanting to read but never get around to it, claws, an older woman’s stale perfume, a vast cinematic shot to make the coen brothers proud, an old gallery, scorched earth, open pine cones, an antique doll from the 1910s

amped and wired, parts one and two: the smell of jager, a graveyard in the middle of the day, rats of different colors, bones, prosthetics, orchids, chrysanthemums, leather teddies, low cut tops on a man, blue and red glow sticks, dildos in the shape of chess pieces, upstate new york at 4 o’clock in the morning, the polished blade of an ice skate, technical drawings, the deafening silence following a loud concert, stifled but genuine laughter on the highway to hell

the artist: paintbrushes wrapped in three kinds of ribbon, plague doctor masks made from papier mache and glitter, hidden kisses below the belt, sung whispers across the skin, mardi gras masks in earth tones, a shirley temple served with a side of “touch me”, lady gaga’s art pop album, ayehuasca at 2 o’clock on a tuesday, three kinds of curly black hair, a dark swamp illuminated by the fullest of full moons, riding on the back of a black and yellow vespa in portland, latte foam in the shape of a gecko, the number 3

the boy who destroyed the world: the marine layer in los angeles, the taste of regret in junction with redemption, poetry written in pencil, a literal blow to the head, aged wood, the ocean at night, torn white lace, willie nelson’s guitar, aged leather bound books, clean hands, “thalassophobia”, a gun that’s never been fired in its life, a sunken ship at the bottom of the ocean, a ceramic urn

beautiful tragedy: cat paw prints in snow, one of those old accounting calculators, a cracked mirror, old scars and remembering the stories behind them, sitting on the beach, bus rides at 5 in the morning, the uncertainty of whether the uneasy feeling in your stomach is from nerves or hunger, heavy black suede, the smell of firewood, cans of beans, chicken and rice soup, cobwebs, jacaranda and ponderosa trees, loose change

six feet under: hard cover school textbooks, espressos that feel like a punch in the back of the head, irish coffee, knit yarmulkes, an old wooden guitar missing a string, snow days, mistletoe next to a menorah, the sunset on rosh hashanah, heavy dark safes the size of bread boxes, white roses, silver charm bracelets, driving several hours with no particular destination in mind

buried alive: crowded city streets, carpet without a furnace, saltine crackers, dust in the place of money, stopwatches, snow on power lines, snow on freshly bloomed plants, shadows growing long at 4:30 in the afternoon, the smell of salt, the smell of paint, the acronym “S.W.A.K.”, aged brick, compasses going haywire, veils of black lace

the dead of night: staining blue paint, eyes meeting and locking, silver lockets, taking off your promise ring, flannel blankets, rosaries on a bed post, “little black books”, trails of honey, tight jeans on both sexes, crossed fingers, light from a waning moon, a dozen dark chocolate donuts, black satin, kiss marks left in black lipstick, a man’s soft cologne