Sparkles, blood and magic.
Fuck this T-shirt.
Fuck anyone who wears it.
Fuck Ann Demeulemeester.Fuck the immortalization of shitty, pointless, superficial soundbites.
Fuck projecting your own feelings of emptiness onto colours, people, or anything else.
Fuck your puffed-up sense of self-importance.
Fuck your precious goth sensibilities.
Fuck anyone who thinks the word fuck isn’t fucking poetic.
Fuck anyone who thinks my rain jacket isn’t, or I’m not for wearing it.
Fuck this fucking T-shirt.
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