Sid and Nancy may be the last pair of fairy tales about love in this world, for the desperate.
But in any case, it is impossible to find out the origin of this love, and even no trace of warmth can be smelled.
It started like this. The bitch crawling in the rubbish crossed the ocean from the United States to the United Kingdom, wanting to sleep with a musician; the scum rolling in the mud was inferior and proud pretending to play the piano, trying to get some drugs. Then they met. Not romantic at all, not beautiful at all, two dirty people with similar smells, hugging each other at this moment, and disgusting each other, not knowing that every moment after this will become a decadent and desperate group of people relishing Tao's legend.
What is touching is the picture of two people kissing in the rubbish flying in the sky. The same is the tone of their lives. Like two maggots, wriggling and struggling, hurting each other in the mud, and relying on each other in the mud.
Who wouldn't mind. Even if you and I are despised by the whole world, there is still the same person who accompanies the fall. Sink forever, pulling each other into the abyss, no matter what his fame, future, bullshit happiness and sunshine. Drowning in the whirlpool of desire together, because you only have me, and I only have you. Until the day you get tired of it, you kill me.
How filthy. How beautiful.
This couple who are bound to death by dark needs, can all this between them be called love? It's not pure, it's not noble, it's full of all the smog you despise. But it is tragic and magnificent, and the aftertaste is like a raging flame, burning all the good expectations of love, and giving birth to a flower of evil in the ashes. It defeats all love, tearing those gorgeous and empty neon clothes. They don't need expectations.
The desire to destroy is like two people living in a hotel, watching the fire burning by the bed, hugging each other and watching it burn in front of them, indifferent. The icy vision is like two people standing in a garbage dump, the falling garbage is like flying flowers, we don't have sex, we just kiss and kiss each other.
All of this is lowly and real, and its ties are far greater than the oath of the mountains and alliances, and they are persistently dependent on life and death.
She put a lock around his neck.
"Where's the key?" he asked
"What key?" she replied
The two looked at each other and laughed.
what love. They didn't say anything about love. Only he killed her and couldn't live alone after that.
more than all love.
- 17.
When I heard Love Kills, I remembered "Beng Zhi Love" and old texts. The weird thing is that my thinking still hasn't changed. The evidence is that when I think of this film, I still have intense emotions in my chest and want to self-destruct.
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