does he? does he? does he know the way i worship ourrrrrr loveeeee

fuck the 27 club im making a fifteen club fuck this

whys virgil lowkey just a country boy at heart pls take your farming poems and leave

i am feeling zero pietas towards my latin homework

i kicked my shoes up into the violet recycling the same practice of careless affection under my breath which wins me matches (yet somehow never flames?). you don't know it yet, but this is our place. im making it if you won't. that said, you don't really know your own place, do you? you think you do, and it sticks under my skin like chewing gum to ( Read more... )

the confluence of shedding the vignette and aching with it's absence...right now i taste like fresh air and iron(y) and sweetened coffee. you don't have to like it. we shrivel like cigarettes against the wall but i'm slamming my heels into the ashtray of you, miss world, you're burning with fever, can you cough me up somewhere along the line? ( Read more... )

tipping into dark eyelash conversation, tripping over my heels and the hallway is watching me mouth the words "i'd chase you around the world".i am hollow with it. i have a bone between my teeth. chewing on the prospect between scenes and when the marrow cracks it's now instinct to look to where it's falling like pennies past your knees...it sets ( Read more... )

here is no why - the smashing pumpkins
everything is alright - motion city soundtrack
maggot - dazey and the scouts
paper chase - the academy is...
shadows - sunny day real estate
aside - the weakerthans

in order. welcome the polarised moods!

very tempted to perform some sort of floorboard exorcism, i just kind of want to put me away. today felt like an exorcism in itself, long, draining - sewage and energy levels alike - and it just becomes increasingly obvious that all me and the days ever do is split each other up like percocets until they're over ( Read more... )

seraphical substances make hammers for homes. she mutters it six feet below her breath, squinting dumbly into the light as splinters push into her calf. how long until the spittle begins to taste like it's been yesterday? with ankles pressed to the wood of the porch, friction familiar, it's machinery the way she curls up every day with the same ( Read more... )