Work Text:
my lungs are burning - roses' flames,
harsh dirty smoke
inside my head,
the cigs become my bones,
and whiskey is my flesh,
forget-forgot what's done
as if it changes things.
i breath, i drink and eat,
and yet, what's then?
a humanoid object in the trench
who left behind devil's beauty
with inky curls and cupid lips
who gave his agonizing heart to him,
his nimble body, charming voice,
the hardships of his soul and all revival poetry,
his very alles