tar.

need it.

she stepped inside the dangling portrait, there was simply nothing she could do.
sometimes there exists a cutting blade tickling the tender niblets of skin on their arms. and they exist for the reason that remains solo: duty. Pulling the reigns of reality can screw you over sometimes. Y'KNOMESAYIN'? yeah, just go ahead and let the strings of cancer infiltrate your precious organs. and for what reason? satisfaction? that's dreadful. she's sorry you have nothing to live for; no soul who appreciates the way your day went; no bit of dust bummed over the unfortune it contains of being held back from landing on your weak shoulder. such a statement for a fleck of dust?
you'd be surprised.
She stepped
Inside The Dangling
portraiT, therE waS simplY nothinG shE coulD dO.
what if we reversed half the set things we do?
just a thought,.

i'm so k00l. be my friend.

1. whilst the army remained on the shore, lusting for war.

2. great scott, watson! what a fool i've been!

3. that's just what you do, y'know? that's just what you do.

4. morning sickness taste like communion wine.

5. i would not be thy executioner.

6. constellations are wastin' away.

7. drinking in the light.

8. gazing at the midnight sky.

9. what do you mean how do i know?

10. t'was his adulterous bride the reason behind that ill-fated war.

too many people, not enough hearts.

feel bad for people with:
kankles
stretch marks (that's me, on my knees)
double chins
armpit fat
no butt

lov3cats

drunkin donuts

VANITY KILLZ. just ask me.

whether assuming a male or female role, i must declare (even though i don't have celebrity crushes, because only douches have those...i guess i'm going to contradict my sorry ass) cillian murphy just makes me melt. i'd throw myself at him.

on a more serious note even though i already was being completely serious, THEY BETTER NOT FUCKING CLOSE DOWN MY FUCKING SCHOOL AND POSTPONE MY FUCKING GRADUATION DATE because of some fucking disease. ugh i can't even explicate how extremely disappointed i'll be.

too many fucks, i apologize.

i've been writing a lot, writing a lot of essays and shit, for my personal leisure. who the hell does that? me. not gonna lie, inspirational music triggers my quench for opulent verbosity (duh, that's what it means by inspirational, trust me, i know), and listening to white lies is pretty damn invigorating. they have these strung out chords that just tug my heartstrings. that sounded so ghey <--i never use that word. what the fuck i never use arrows like that.

us gov't. ap exam at oh eight hundred hours that i am completely blowing off. i think i'll write about humanity in the essay portion instead of historical events and/or the derivative of the constitution of the united states of america. i really hate how that sentence has the word OF in it four times.

just for shits and giggles i'm gonna use another arrow.

<-- handsome devil, in Breakfast on Pluto, a dashing film.

right now, i feel like going throughs some woodz. and do what in these woodz? take a guess. man, i just cannot grasp how i feel about my life right now.

MOTHER IN LAW SPELLS WOMAN HITLER

bye

i'm pretty sure...

...that the power is going to go out soon.

Real McCoy.

it's the ripe hours of morning in which visionary prose births itself into a somatic form. gazing at this glowing thing opposite myself, i see the silhouette of some enthusiastic hair displayed against the wall. i want to go to bed. but i can't. i have 55-question test to take; it involves "critical reading" thus i'm a bit apprehensive to allowing slumber overcome me. a panorama of things in my peripheral vision include:

hats

closet door

business cards

my wardrobe

speakers

55-question test involving "critical reading"

2nd place trophy

doctor's note

latex-free rubber gloves, courtesy of the hospital under which my grandmother is residing

tape.

i'm sporting a strapless red dress; my hair focuses on one side of my head, the other side is pinned back. hair is fashioned in loose black curls, although the overall color is indistinguishable; some locks are black, some contains flecks of gold, some unfortunately look of dark green; i'm just waiting a few more weeks before i drastically change it all again. wrists are bare. jewelry lacks presence everywhere but upon my right ring finger: my mother's engagement & wedding rings. i have mascara on and whatever humble blush leftover from the day. my eyes are bloodshot. gross. i need my eye dropz.

* * *

i question myself everyday, how far i can go. what lengths i'll take to get what i want. and what do i want? i want that sensation of the senses, the awe-inspiring gush of reaction to push me down. to knock my socks off. to make me fall head over heels, whichever niggling expression suits--i want that action and reaction i used to have.

anyway. goodnight.

ps. look at these darling photos i stumbled upon.

oh deer.

it's nice when i have a song on repeat and i don't even know it's starting over.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

bring home the bacon.

the (english) beat - can't get used to losing you

etta james - sunday kind of love

bryan ferry - kiss & tell

david bowie - queen bitch

cocteau twins - lorelei

pnau - with you forever

giulio rasi - when the sun goes down

portishead - the rip

animal collective - grass

lapin - the mood for dancing

midnight juggernauts - nine lives

death from above 1979 - sexy results

de la soul - me myself and i

emil & friends - sleepyhead

judas priest - you say yes

beach house - holy dances

ebn-ozn - AEIOU sometimes Y

i avidly fancy the art of grammar.