#lilith corvade

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New bra, feeling pretty <3

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Another great find.

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Doors

I had come to a point in my life where I was faced with many doors that lead to different paths. It was depressing at first but with a few days I settled on which one to walk through.

Now I sit here at the station. It's Spring, sunny and warm. I sit here, waiting to go celebrate with my beloved, listening to Placebo, delightfully happy with the door I chose to walk through.

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The wet ground always looks so pretty when the sun comes out.

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Playing with Eye shadow residue. Looks kinda cool

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The Dance of Nymphetamine

“It was early in the evening but there was still a decent number of people here so far. No one was dancing yet. The first DJ of the night usually doesn’t get a crowd to dance but the music is still delightful.

They all arrive in dribs and drabs, heading straight for the bar where they greeted friends they hadn’t seen for a few weeks. The crowd doesn’t really show up and become alive until closer to Midnight. Soon there will be mass of darkly clothed creatures and long haired metal heads in band shirts.

We sat on the stairs that lead down to the dance floor. A slight drop that allowed the people at the bar to look down at the dance floor. My Angel sat a few steps below me, his arms wrapped around my legs and his head resting on knee. I stroked his hair as I drank bourbon. As I finished my drink the next song began. ‘Nymphetamine’ by Cradle of Filth. Instantly my Angel’s head shot up by the sound of the song. He looked up at me, my hand still stroking his head. With his eyes I could see his excitement, asking me to dance. I smiled at him as I put my empty glass down. He stood up and helped me up off the steps and lead me down to the dance floor.

It is a truely beautiful song Nymphetamine. For such a dark genre of medal it is slow paced, like a ballad. Yet still heavy with electric guitar and dark growl for vocals that worked so well with the sweet beauty of a female duet.

We danced closely together, like a slow paced waltz. We swayed graceful, alone on the dance floor. The moment was ours, and ours alone. In a rush of excitement my Angel picked me up high in the air and spun me around. My surprise and delightful laugh gained us some attention from the bar. This was purely blissful moment that only a couple as dark and as passionate us could appreciate. A true Gothic Romance.”

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Reading

I love reading. It amuses me that I do, since I once hated it so much. I loathed having to read as a child. I assume this was a product of my dyslexia at the time. Reading was difficult and I took no pleasure from it. But as I got older it became an easier task that I started to enjoy. I’m glad I enjoy reading so much now that I am an adult. It has improved my vocabulary and my own writing skills. Even the way I think inside my little head has been inspired by the words of the books I read. I can assure you without reading this little blog wouldn’t be so emotive in its expression. 

A pleasure I have also gained from my love of reading is a love of collecting old books. The hard cover books with faded pages that were probably brand new when my grandparents were children. I find them in second hand stores. I most likely find them here because their original owner has died and their family have decided the books aren’t worth keeping when sorting their possessions out.

 I do love these type of books. I love how they feel and smell and I enjoy some of the little notes or marks left in them. Names of the people who once owned them, notes and underlined quotes on passages, messages written down from the people who gave them as gifts. These little things intrigues me. I find they give the books character. Some seem to have been school books or library books and others given as gifts. I’ve built up a lovey little collection over the last 6-8 months. I’ve found old prints of Shakespeare’s plays, with notes by students inside them. I’ve found old medical journals and one large ‘Home Doctor’ book that I can’t for the life of me work out its publishing date. I have some Sherlock Holmes stories, Charles Dickions, H.G.Wells, Jane Austin and all sorts of books. 

I do hope one day I can read them all. When I look at them I wish I had more time. Now that it is winter and it is cold and foggy almost every day I long to just lock myself in my warm little house and read by the heater. I wish I could be like Eve from Only Lovers Left Alive. Immortal, with all the time in the world, surrounded by beautiful books. My beloved and I would kill for such a gift. To not have to leave our house unless we desired to go out and face the world. We’d lock ourself up and cuddle up together reading, listening to music. Maybe one day will have that kind of time… For now I got through one book at a time…