Suffle: Mon Ami
I am a highlight of lightness waiting to be dyed into the smokey follicles of your dark. You smell like djarums and I love the heaviness of cloves. Their haughty thickness, sticky sickness that clings to your hands as much as I do. Often my stomach curdles at thoughts of the long dream times flinging themselves between me and you; I cannot heave them out - the barren future flowers. In...
When we don’t know who to hate, we hate ourselves.– Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters (via fleshscars)
all in all it was forgotten well. summer forgot itself and the beetles chirped outside. I can hear the twisted gravity of the situation and I can still not feel anything. Sometimes, when I get too obsessively fat, to the point where not even my pedastled mirror can lie to the cells over-reproducing in the sides of my gut, I dont eat. Sometimes I don’t sleep. I scavenge everything like...
the voices tell me that it hurts
but i can’t feel the tingling tears. they are unbearably warm and uncontrollable. i don’t know how to fix the things that make me make them. sometimes the moon turns orange and stares beautifully on the earth, too far away to see the cracks, the craters that mark us too. i wonder if it ever gets jealous, or if perhaps it confidently knows that it is more perfect in its unapproachable...
I suppose it’s a comfort, perhaps a sense of self-control, doing worse damage to...– Chuck Palahniuk (via fleshscars)
How strange it is. We have these deep terrible lingering fears about ourselves...– Don DeLillo (via atavus)
See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot...– Sylvia Plath (via flowence)