(Source: 40licks, via bitch-witchery)
(via loveyourchaos)
when the low, heavy sky weighs like a lid on the spirit
aching for the light
and when, embracing the horizon,
it pours on us a black day which is sadder than any night
when the earth is turned into a dripping dungeon
in which hope,
like a bat,
flutters blindly and bruises its timid wing and tender head against the walls and rotted ceilings;
when the rain,
stretching down its long streaks of water,
imitates the bars of an enormous prison
and a silent throng of loathsome spiders come and weave their webs inside our brains;
then suddenly the bells swing angrily
and hurl their hideous uproar into the sky like a band of wandering spirits who wail relentlessly.
and long hearses,
without drums or music
move in a slow procession through my soul
and defeated hope bursts into tears
and the fierce tyrant, Anguish, sets his black banner on my bowed head.
(via loveyourchaos)
the sea is wine red
this is the death of beauty
Mourning
(Source: sceneriies, via izumikosuzuhara)
