♚ —— marchisms.

█│║ &.) @jamesmrchs

take a knife and make it RED.
use a gun and shoot their head.
take a life, a soul, a THREAD.
be atropos      —–     cut it, and they’ll all be dead. 

words to live by is what he felt. think of a rhyme and use it well. whistle at the time CRIMSON is painting the nearby wall. maybe use a hand to spread it, and have the maid scrub it like it was shower grime. be SICK, be EVIL, be TWISTED. be everything the world outlaws because you could start a revolution ! be you, be greedy, be pure at heart…. he was JAMES PATRICK MARCH.         ——————          but he wasn’t. he was the reflection of the man in the mirror. always checking if there was a wrinkle in his suit. WORRIED ABOUT THE MOST FOOLISH THINGS. 

image

he’s DONE being the reflection. he’s DONE having his conscience being pushed aside like he was the dirty poor. one more look at the mirror, and MARCH won’t look back the same. NO. in the mirror he stares with anger and confusion. how will the other react to their own reflection staring at them with DISTASTE ??? the world may NEVER know. 

             ————— ‘ you disgust me. ‘

einstein once said that the definition of insanity is to repeat the same actions over and over again while expecting different results. a question often present when he decides to think about such subject, but james has done a lot of things, if so he’s being candid enough. nevertheless, there is a certain kind of hollowness that insists on chasing him ; asking for more, DEMANDING that he so tries harder in finding something truly breathtaking. 

                                                                              ————— it demands for him to live.

               a jazz melody echoes around the room and an ivory stain on his suit is soon noticed by
               trained eyes, a mere representation of just ah so many (  useless  ) attempts in finding
               something SATISFYING. james march is, by all means, a frustrated man. lost in   his
               own pathetic little world, followed by the everlasting hypocrisy of the twentieth century. 

                                              he wants to let go.
                                                he needs to let go.
                                                  he B E G S to let go. 

an answer for such wishes seemed to have been answered ; such as the ultimate COSMIC JOKE the universe had thrown directly at him, or perhaps a mere side effect of bohemian marching powder, there it was. piercing ebonies providing him a stern stare that, for once, HALLUCINATION was the first thought to pass through james’ mind ; a simple consequence of the intoxication. he blinks once, twice, three times. no. it still looks as impassible as ever ; as if he was being stared by his own soul. 

                            he’s being lectured by his own soul.

image

                                               ❛    a side effect, they say. snort and you shall
                                                       hallucinate. quite the illusion, really.

                                                               ——————–

                                                       you are not real.    ❜

 



eins

i was born with the devil in me. i could not help the fact that i was a murderer, no more than the poet can help the inspiration to sing.

zwei

independent and selective james patrick march from american horror story.

canon divergent.

drei

portrayed by lo, gmt -3.

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