CHASMALTAR [Close Customization.]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ(1980, 2 A.M.) BALLAD OF DYING ㅤROSE. REQUIEM FOR 5,000 IDR ༒ ㅤRUINS OF SACRED DEVOTION. ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE • Code 01, Code 02, Code 03, Code 04, Code 05. ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ(1980, 2 A.M.) BALLAD OF DYING ㅤROSE. REQUIEM FOR 5,000 IDR ༒ ㅤRUINS OF SACRED DEVOTION. ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ(1980, 2 A.M.) BALLAD OF DYING ㅤROSE. REQUIEM FOR 22,000 IDR ༒ ㅤRUINS OF SACRED DEVOTION. ㅤ

📝 ༇ RÉQUISITIONS DE MINUIT. AN INTIMATE RITE OF BESPOKE CREATION. Words of contempt are to be left at the door 👥 0 people have voted so far. 📖 Anonymous Board

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤAN OBSCURE CONCORDANCE OF ㅤㅤㅤSILHOUETTE, MOURNING, AND … ㅤㅤㅤIMPERISHABLE GRANDEUR ㅤㅤㅤPlatter of Gourmets: @Chasmaltar. (1980 | 2 A.M) Raiment conceived in the penumbra of abandoned chapels, wherein every hem bears the temperament of an unwitnessed requiem. ㅤAFTER THE FIRST BELL: Table of Moodboard ㅤERE, THE SABLE DIALECT. ㅤ › Soon. ㅤAFTER THE SECOND BELL: Table of Writing ㅤERE, THE SABLE DIALECT. ㅤ › Soon. ㅤAFTER THE THIRD BELL: Table of Channel ㅤERE, THE SABLE DIALECT. ㅤ › Soon. ㅤAFTER THE FOURTH BELL: Table of Finder ㅤERE, THE SABLE DIALECT. ㅤ › Soon. @CHASMALTARSBOT, 1980 — Attire rendered in the grammar of decay. Silhouettes prescribed with sepulchral exactitude, as though tailored not for the living hour, but for some aristocracy grave. ㅤ

‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎‎ ‎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ You recognize, what’s more painful than by a fluke trimming your finger on a bayonet? My skin, sliced by anguish. And not a single finger stirs to cure. It’s not right. The moment a drop of blood becomes a sip of sink, it belittles me. I feel as though the whole pandemonium is crumbling. Sins pour forth from a torrent that strikes the heart along drought, to brook.

Father said I could get through the epilepsy by consumed meat unfit for consumption. Mother said I could escape the ache—but I’d have to keep my mouth slam. ‘Yet. If only I’d kept quiet.’ Might the blood never grope the ground? Today, you see nothing but a sign of my wounds.

ㅤㅤ Chronological, I. Deadbolt. UNBOLTED PANTRY OF RAPSCALLIONS: DISTENDED AIM YOU’LL SOUGHT-AFTER (28/49.) › “Magoria, Serve Your Aroha. Perhaps.” The splore comes at night, when my strength has been drained and I am overwhelmed by pain. Yet what can you do but let me look like rubbish and be Proscribe by My Parents? I could hurl a thousand questions at you, if I wanted to. Yet, as long as I continue to breathe, (I may take one last step on the floor whilst praying.) Perhaps I didn’t have course to nod the angel’s question about whether to live—to live behind agony and crawling. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ──── July, 1827. SHARP QUOTUM: (84/85) SAN MARINO Never-ending of serving humans, where it has been desiderate as the “last breath.” The feast plough on until the appointed phase: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. All humans are fed regularly! Therefore, this is a harsh blow to the intruders. If there is too much food to consume—leave, and sling your hook. Don’t bring festering wounds into the linger: Plagiarism, Stealing, Take An Inspiration nor Re-selling The Plate. If you are obstinate and caught red-handed, your bones will be the huge sanction for the eat-in: IDR 400,000 (shall the linger dishearten and puritanical).ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ ㅤPUNCTILIO IN CORRESPONDENCE: 1980’s ㅤEXACTITUDE IN DICTION. FASTIDIOUSNESS ㅤIN PRESENTATION. ‘Illusory Comme-Il-Faut. ㅤ