I’ll throw antidotes at the sun and I will lay beneath, hypaethral. I will swallow the mutated light viruses and feel my cells singe in the most delicate of deaths.
Pages torn to pieces and thrown against the wind… they find me now, open to the sky.
I’ll throw antidotes at the sun and I will lay beneath, hypaethral. I will swallow the mutated light viruses and feel my cells singe in the most delicate of deaths.
Pages torn to pieces and thrown against the wind… they find me now, open to the sky.