•~> Størm, yeah I'm 15 & my girl Elise is 16, gotta problem with that? Break down the barriers - I've dated 17 year old girls uh, huh <~•
•~> Tahiti is the surfer's paradise <~•
I'm a white male, straight, Scandinavian, standing 6'3" & 151 lbs. barefoot in the powder white FL sand. I was born in Kallax Sweden, and raised in Düsseldorf Germany, currently living in FL USA.
Tall & thin, blue eyes and longer than shoulder length blonde hair - longer than yours - LOL - and a pierced left ear. I have a tatoo of the Viking rune of Good Fortune and Safe Travel.
I play a modified Gibson Les Paul Black Beauty Guitar with triple humbuckers on vintage (tube) Marshall Amps. Gothic Poet. I write song Lyrics.
Carolynn Elise is my steady GF.
....about sums it up, want to know more, post (industrial-constructive) comments.
•~> TRIBUTE TO MY GOTHIC BEAUTY, ELISE 8-6-15; edited 11-1-15.
•~> She's the gentle warmth of a moonbeam at midnight.
•~> Ink black skies sprinkled in silver stardust - pinholes of cosmic starlight.
•~> Elise appears from Stygian silhouetted forest in intricate lace, hooded black cape flowing.
•~> Gothic porcelain beauty, black mascara framing blue eyes, black lipstick, her anxiety showing.
•~> Flushed and weak I feel the effects of her intoxicating magic, like the sensual warmth of morphine numbing life's pain, she casts her loving spell.
•~> The Sun, the Moon, the Stars tremble as Elise comforts my fever, placing a cool bandana on my forehead moistened by cool waters of an ancient fresh-water well.
•~> A Raven cries out in the darkness - Nevermore shall your tortured soul struggle within your fragile mind.
•~> Her Gothic Love courses through my veins, and I gently succumb, leaving all my earthly possessions, both tangible and intangible, behind.
•~> The rhythmic flutter of feather and air shatter the silence as a pair of Doves fly.
•~> Her spell complete, Elise smiles and together we soar through the forest trees so very high. <~•
•~> Goodbye. <~• xxx
•~> TRIBUTE TO ELISE, by Storm 6-15-15 <~•
•~> In an ancient New Orleans graveyard, Elise strolls amoungst the souls, eerily aware of their gentle presence.
•~> Something dead and bitter sweet yet as delightful as a whispy fragrance of sandlewood incense.
•~> Black tree limbs leafless and bare frame Grey Skies that threaten icy rain on a morose winters day.
•~> My carefree Gothic beauty gazes at the darkening clouds overhead and decides she'll stay.
•~> Fashionable in torn ebony lace, a delicate black parasol and flowing cape of velveteen satin.
•~> She takes pause to read the dead language chiseled in the mossy marble, scribed in ancient Latin.
•~> Beneath the statue of a Weeping Winged Angel, the epitaph warns: Transimus Viam Hanc Sed Semel. (We Pass This Way But Once).
•~> She ponders her inevitable fate and smiles as grey sky fades to Black and the Cold Rain Fell. <~•
•~> The End <~•
(Does anyone read this stuff - idk).
(•~> •_• <~•)
•~>♥<~• Love Størm •~>♥<~•