January 2010
10 posts
australia day
i woke too late to smother like butter in the sunshine, darkness is now only a whisper away at the peak of the planet. i’m a rotation too late anyway, beer has long been drunk and perhaps already thrown up on a balcony or beach somewhere, and lovers lay together in a drunken paralysed state united in the same bodily desire for their rest. gingerbeard and i are on our bed, he laying and i...
fucking
being naked. porn, tits, ass. what’s the time? 1960?
the 2 years that just ran past pickpocketed me of youthly haziness. laying naked next to some skinbag of bones with a slippery grin blossumed an exhilarating, blood-squealing insolence. hallways are coming into focus, let’s fuck. ladies pout and whimper, glazing their eyes and curving their frame. sucking power from the very...
anonymous
a moment ago i thought about smothering my boyfriend. one virginal, swirling, thick and foggy moment where murdering him lead me down the hall to the door glimmering and swimming and swaying and glowing. relief.
he lies by me as i cough up my dry words, lying deep in an ocean of the rum which muffles the sound of my fingers pitter-pattering like small children’s soles. he lies still and...
the cat i wasn't to touch, thankyou very much
this part is (optional)
i live in london, uk. it snows, but it doesn’t today. i go out, but i won’t today. i spend money on food, art supplies, books and panties. this is my worst update yet.
you can’t be lonely in a big city, so i’m not. i’d make a good case, but it’d be artificially sad and therefore a downer. i’m not the soppy sook i come across as, but sometimes i wish i...
anonymous
and we’re all dirty and glamorous and beautiful and young and choking on vomit from our body rejecting the poisons our minds are wailing and flailing and screaming for and posing for the right pictures in the right poses for the right people and they’re writing scripts about our lives and we’re stumbling and mumbling about the loves that only lurk around our lips and tongues when...
anonymous
dear mum.
i don’t really know where to start exactly, but i guess i had a really difficult day yesterday - they seem to be occurring more and more often these days. it wasn’t anything to do with the relationship between gingerbeard and i; infact, i think we’re getting stronger. it wasn’t really anything rational, but like you said - feelings are rarely rational. i just feel a little...
introduction
the iris of my eye is gingerbeard. we weave, like the lengths of wool in my jumper. we run in synchonicity, like the hair that erupts unceremoniously on my crown. we are not brittle and ill like the whites of my undernourished fingernails. i have grown into indifferent utter dependence on my shoulder blades being warmed by his chest. his arm seeking a path across my ribcage has become as...
i draw portraits
040110
for my decade and four-fifths, my arrogant youth has been quick to discard what has now become imperative musings on life. my pattern of maturity seems cyclic, and indicitave of a popular trend of becoming adult - discarding advice of the wise and endulging in frivolity, until a night comes (and it is always night that rips our mind apart and the thoughts of our masterpieces leak through, like...