WARNING SO NOBODY GETS BUTTHURT:
This is not an appropriate blog to follow in case you haven't noticed by now. If you don't like surprise NSFW/BLOOD/ART or me-just-being-a-casual-douche you may think twice before pressing that button.
THE REST OFF YOU WEIRDOS JUMP TO THE FREAKY WAGGON. If you where looking for an insomniac artist with a creepy inclination that's me in the corner.
on bad days i remember that i’m a creative motherfucker that plans to turn their body into an original tattoo master piece of shit and i feel alive
just back from mindless self indulgence’s concert
my satisfied drunk face and new shirt:
i fucked my throat and i smell like a dog I’M SO HAPPY
there is a cute baby boy working next to my place that i want to befriend
the booty in question look something like this:
is “no hetero but let me paint you like one of my french girls” a good icebreaker?
should i ask him for his name or just go ahead and blast some Joan Jett
today you pulled your aching bones out of bed
and darling, that’s enough for now.
you whispered that you felt like water,
like your spine was going to pull itself out of your skin
and run away with your heart.
your skeleton’s not like your dad, i said.
it’ll always be there to support you.
the sink was red again, i know,
but later we’ll make it blue and green.
sit damp-shouldered laughing-eyed
and rub colour into each other’s hair.
we’ll be wearing rainbows and spreading suns
and we’ll lounge like lions until
your chest needs a different space to breathe.
we’re sitting in the kitchen
and you’re kissing my knuckles
and you’re trying to say “i love you”
but the words keep getting stuck in your throat.
i can hear it, i whisper. i can hear it, darling.
you smile and kiss again.
your tears, when i taste them,
make me think of the sea.
SASuKE U ok -