#conjuring up bloody idols to make a friend’s insides less haunting. shouldn’t even say that

[afieldinengland]

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#thinking about back when i passed for a dorian myself. do you think i still do? #ah. too old in the eyes and the liver now maybe. my own fault— something’s harder in my middle. i suppose it’s adulthood #which is of course different to maturity. i already had that. i’d like to think at least #either way. i don’t know if i pass for a prince anymore. something else something else #would i want to? has there been a change that was total? #more like a wounded knight really. well it’s the pretty word games i miss— seducing with taboo. i’m telling stories again #only once or twice have i had the opportunity. dorian did it every day #ganymede narcissus…. hyacinth. warm dead boys #harri can you lighten up a little? you’re nineteen. twenty in july. youth. #there is absolutely nothing in this world but youth. nothing lonelier #i’m becoming my father. mad and soft and cynical #i doubt dorian could drink like i do. no weak london stock you’re wiltshire blood #shoulders to carry buckets. a stare to melt a canvas. i don’t know. i worry #talking talking talking. forgive me it’s been a while since i’ve loosened my tongue like this #i don’t know if i could be coveted. i know i have been. these things coexist #but i’m old now and i’m tired and i want to taste blood when i bite as well as tar-paper #conjuring up bloody idols to make a friend’s insides less haunting. shouldn’t even say that #just…. thinking. thinking thinking about prettier words that make men blush. i think i’m just lonely #dorian got sick of it too. emerging from the attic. now only dogs will follow me