•~> Størm 15 <~•
•~> Type O Negative Rocks from the Grave <~•
I'm 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 Journey!
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 1-27-16.
•~> She's the gentle warmth of a moonbeam at midnight.
•~> Ink black skies sprinkled in silver stardust - pinholes of cosmic starlight.
•~> Elise appears from a Stygian forest in intricate lace, her hooded black cape flowing.
•~> Gothic porcelain beauty, black mascara framing blue eyes, black lipstick, her delicate complexion glowing.
•~> Predator and prey, she casts her loving spell upon me - powerful black magic runs through my veins like the sensual warmth of China White, heaven and hell.
•~> Elise comforts my fever, placing a cool bandana on my forehead moistened from the cool water of an abandoned forest well.
•~> Lying beside her, wrapped in her love like a childhood blanket, I look into her crystal blue eyes and travel the painless corridors of her mind.
•~> Fractured rays of sunbeam filter through the forest canopy revealing our secret safe place of leaf and vine.
•~> The sudden flutter of feather in air shatter still silence as a pair of snow white Doves fly.
•~> Her spell complete, Elise smiles and together we soar through the forest so very high. <~•
•~> Goodbye. <~• xxx
•~> TRIBUTE TO ELISE, by Storm 6-15-15; edited 1-12-16 <~•
•~> In a meticulously manicured Hollywood cemetery, Elise strolls amoungst the souls, eerily aware of their gentle presence.
•~> Something dead and bitter sweet yet as delightful as the whispy fragrance of sandlewood incense.
•~> Black tree limbs leafless and bare frame the grey skies - threatening icy rain on a morose winters day.
•~> My mysterious 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 into black, and the freezing rain fell. <~•
•~> The End <~•
(Does anyone read this stuff - idk).
(•~> •_• <~•)
•~>♥<~• Love Størm •~>♥<~•