Please be patient with me…my belfry’s full of bats
y fetiches:
Sobre mí
You make death so pretty:
In your arms
Expiration seems witty
Every costume
A dune of threads;
Every look
A train of dead.
O what you make us chase
Our garb conjured in brains
Which storm the seasons
Like a squall of rains
Whose journey is the gutter
Whose destiny is the pacific
Fashion is really mortality
Sorry for being so specific