musettes:

decayedintelligence:

the nightclub/a stonecold zombie with a look of shock on its face, the kind that happens when nocturnals get caught in the daylight/check that feeling/something about turned-off neon always does it for me, turns on the sadness, gets me thinking about where all the shine goes to/like it should’ve been raining, like it should’ve always been raining
what the hell
just this guy, you know, standing alone on ian curtis boulevard/sunday morning frozen, just gone nine/and even the moon has been left behind by the night, so careless, looking like a stain of bleach/like a close-up photo of how my head is feeling/oh please, I could do with some doghair right now/something wet to get the heart in tune, to keep my finger from shaking on the door buzzer/until this low-pitch squawk gets back to me

JA + runk. gullig du ärrrrrr.