Ruslan Tushentsov

every devil has his own angel you are an angel**ruslan is the devil

he found you at the city dump, where you had soiled your virgin wings in the dust, and he carried you to sleep because you were so pathetic you settled in his black castle where you were cleaning stubbornly but order has nothing to do with it because you got engaged to the doomed one, together you walked a tightrope, but he walked the wrong way and he fell and after him you fell, he so wanted to paint the world in bright colors but there was poisonous water in his watercolors, but he thought that he had lost all his chances along the way

• at least for you, my little pale princess, enjoying the process from the grave

he whispers in your ear, kissing a line from your ear to your chin

— and now I’m even glad, to be honest, that there’s enough space for two)