GhostYour ghost is tree sap on my fingers.It clings to me;It grabs my hair;It turns my fingers black as tar.Your ghost is music in another room.It is unintelligible, yetIts pulse is inescapable;It is just too distant to identify.Your ghost is wanton desire.It grips me in the dead of night;It refuses to let me sleep;It insights my legs to restlessness.Your ghost is a weakened vein.It seizes me silently,Taking my breath suddenly;It kills itself.
Mistakes - Tyki Mikk x ReaderPG13------His first mistake was meeting you…"Ugh, I’m never going to make it out of here alive, now am I?" You groaned out in exasperation, distraughtly scrutinizing the local area but not recognizing any potential landmarks. "Fuuuuuck meeeeee." Every establishment looked dangerously similar to you and there was no train station in sight while the townspeople were absolutely unhelpful to you.The Japanese style town you were currently located in was absolutely breathtaking - it was a pleasant surprise how authentic the homely village was with its cobblestone paths, Japanese maple trees, and delicately embellished houses. Seemed like even if the actual country of Japan was perilously overrun with murderous akuma and domestic strife, at least a slice of its culture could still be found outside of its borders. If you weren’t so desperate to leave, then you probably would’ve appreciated the sightseeing opportunities."Um, excuse me?" You asked, poki