crimson can carry some of the darker or more sinister symbolism of red, including anger, aggression, death, or a sense of the macabre. it can also symbolize loyalty and love
--- you won't wake me up
i need a saint, i need a god
i was swimming in holy water
now I'm drowning down the river
turquoise is a color that can sometimes be impractical, idealistic, and remote from emotional reactions, appearing excessively cool, calm and collected, despite inner turmoil
--- how you feeling?
heartbroken and jonesing for a nicotine rush
like a sad and lonely lush, alright
three shots in and hoping I'm not letting you down
cause I don't do well in crowds, alright
a place somewhere between the living and the divine where children of the gods can come and live out their royal pampering with their parents. These places exist outside of time and space, and is significantly unique to the their parent.
castle tops basking in the rays of dawn, adorned by vines and thorns that carry their way through the crevices of the building. like an unswept canvas made of silk that thrusts itself upon the makings of grandeur, both reminiscent of royalty as well as the gentleness of the youngest jeup. flora lacing the window sills as roses grow sparingly on the forefront, only to be littered by the subtle colours across its columns as one enters deeper into the realm. in between the lust of power and the grace of his desires, the white paints the perfect image of an essence so pure yet so clean and undefined. a slate left to be self interpreted though, alluring enough that it has an impact of its own left unattended.
roses dotting the castle’s edge, pathways lighted by rows and rows of rose bushes. shrubs knee height, though the familiar scent of sweetened clove beckons to its crafter. gentle yet… sophisticated and deadly. the thorns lathering it’s spines, so fragile, velvet to the touch yet… so— so, threatening.
grandeur staircases that lead to an array of rooms, one for every occasion that lingers by the soul, no unnecessary cluttering as he prefers it that way. open, fresh and free. the autonomy, the liberty that he withholds shadows the castle that peers through the in between. intricate designs by the high ceilings, high enough that his scales don’t graze the edges of the designs. antique and well crafted, perhaps by the hands of his father. a legacy lead forward by his own, careful that wind up the handrail, white marble and cold to the touch. some semblance to the crafter. arches and hallways litter the place, as golden globes light the way. oil portraits hanging off the walls, large enough that it would take days at a time to admire. the emphasis on sophistication and depth, the colour though bleak, it stood out from everything white. a sweet contrast all in itself.
like lace on his mother’s attire, it’s embedded in the hallways of the estate, inspirations always stemming at the root. though, over time it morphs into something more personal, more in tune with himself. it’s intricate, it’s thoughtful and it’s picturesque as it is threatening and gloomy. the gazebo by the opening, a perfect example of something so simple, so pure yet could so easily do harm. tender fingertips pricking against the ceramic columns, a line of red draws across it and dyes the white a deep shade of sanguine. so alluring, so miscalculated, so… so him.
his visits have dwindled, responsibilities and diligence weighing on both his shoulders. hopes of frequenting it more, though duty weighs more heavily. time spent here, leaves a calm wave to rekindle in his soul, like the golden orbs that light the way, he is reinvigorated at every small chance he gets to visit.
peach tell us that we might be relying too heavily on others to help us with our life and problems even to the point of manipulating them to take care of us because we are afraid we won't get our needs met
--- you say that I'm kinda difficult
but it's always someone else's fault
got you wrapped around my finger, babe
you can count on me to misbehave