Sleater-Kinney: 14th August, Mean Fiddler. £10. Anybody?

And also, when do the a-level results come out?

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Laying down some desperate memories; Your body curves in beautiful ways. You've got acid yellow in your blue eyes. You do amazing things. You can look so young. I can feel so distant. But not when it's as simple as watching the television, and I can wipe the mayonnaise from the corner of your mouth, and scratch my nose on your shoulder. Your skin ( Read more... )

And it's almost painful to observe how quickly I can feel seperate from you. My arms are pushing out in front of me already.

I've been away from home since Friday, and I've moved from bed to bed. My sleep is disrupted each night and I find I have sweat down my spine and a pulse in my palms. My bones stretch and creak when I wake. I watch him play those old games, made in 1985, Super Mario Bros. and he mutters like I always assumed boys did, before he turns his head to ( Read more... )

I'm a chord on repeat, I'm a chord on repeat I'm a chord on repeat I'm one sound on repeat I'm sound I'm one sound on repeat, when it's beautiful, when it's not enough I'm on repeat I'm that one sound.

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There are mosquito bites all along my fingers. I want to knaw on my insides like I am with my knuckles. It's that threshold between pain and pleasure and it's the only kind I'm getting.

I'm so sorry for being the way I am. And for wanting anything. My lack of self worth is as ugly as my neediness. I can't believe I'm back here.

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If I could demand it all back it would be about horses and the colour grey. And my cigarettes and that bitter cold. We had oil burners on all day, my sheets were heavy with it. I washed my hands until they were too dry to move. I only ate orange chocolate and I wrote everything down on loose paper. Sleep was easy and my chest filled up so warmly. ( Read more... )