DREAM: mom and a new house. its big and has many rooms. she’s helping me move inside. food, flowers. endless stuff. she hands me the keys, leaves. and it is as if it all hits some instant expiry. everything rots down to the boards. outside, yelling: how could you give this to me? without telling me?

do therapists actually work. seems fake.

everything that happens to me is karmic debt from my 100 year reign as a callous princeling. the emperor created the art of Go to soothe my stormy heart and i played it as i did the victims of my torture gardens. this is why im continuously molested for All Time.

sick with myself

i havent slept right in ages. stomach in somersaults. feel like im midway to an ulcer. i just want something to go my way.

throwing away the whole world to make room. had to let my potted flowers go. my bf gave them to me for my birthday and theyre alive and i had to put them in the trash.

total terror, bundle of nerves

im an extended joke for the consumption of human beings

being home feels perverse. i can get on a plane in new england, a place where the air is air and trees are only trees, i set down in the south and suddenly these things bend towards me. i look at the sun through the leaves, heat off the roadside, and it all means something to me. its not normal.

a moment of lightness can ruin my whole day. i can love it for a minute and then, inevitably, i’ll track it back to some pain or central missingness that’s bound to boomerang. i see the shadow as it spins. that’s just the kind of person i am.

dagger of the mind

*dies of bunny sleepiness*

persona fans when its time to play 2000 hours of mid

lowkey. people make a lotta assumptions.

a time, as many thought, of janie truimphant

people talk about a “vibe shift” and they pin it on any number of cultural swings, but really there’s something much simpler. the battle for the present is over. the vision of a cooperative and peaceful world that emerges from our current paradigm is finished. its a war for the future now.

the samurai scrolls right by furry pornography, draftkings ads, chronicles of immense and immediate sufferings. the samurai is in pursuit of something that will never be said. she thinks about blowing up the world.

the samurai listens to death’s dynamic shroud and ignores concerned texts from her mother.

the samurai does not edge. the samurai finishes, two, maybe even three times in quick succession.

every day try to impress upon yourself a clear and present memory. it works best if it is attached to sensation. today, i see my own shadow. and i notice for the first time, just how small my hands are. i wave at myself. draw closer and closer, then touch. and i am warm black metal.

i wonder how liberals, conservatives — the status quomentariat — will feel as oceans turn to acid and vast portions of the evening sky empty of all birds. 30% of thinking things, baked in their shells. what will they say? complaints, mostly. or nothing much at all.

serve or suffer. what a world.

boymoding in your bfs clothes hit different. im lowkey wearing your skin buddyroo. and its lookin like a dress on me.

*dies of bunny fright*

thinking “i should jack off” and then not jacking off. dark magic vampire mind.

is it still possible in our world to make art that comes from some place alien to us, the inner mind or from outside of our bodies? i would like to think so. for much of history, art was like this. the muses weren’t a metaphor. if the feeling struck you, you had no choice but to act.

one of the most painful parts of our modern world is that we are expected to always be understood by others, to always be useful and easily translated into someone else’s experience

i just fired the gun built in the back of my head. i reached into my mouth and pulled the trigger in the back of my throat. plume of smoke from the eyes; then out springs Big Bullet!

successfully disguised myself as a normal woman while out with my bfs family again. the deception continues.

i promise i will post normal again sometime soon

he isnt awake yet, and he wont ever see this, but happy birthday to my boyfriend. he’s my hero, in both the most romantic and childish sense of the word. i will torture him endlessly.

not looking back after saying goodbye. curious guilt. a sinker in the chest. cant i go for a walk around the block without being such a sap. fat chance.

paralyzed by obligation

a parking lot is essentially a great genocide of insects, rabbits, fungi and windflowers. whenever you look at something manifestly ugly and useless, remember that it is also killing things.

moments of childlike glee: whenever my bf magically appears on the same bus as me, with no communication and as if from thin air, grabbing me by the arm. this has happened 3 times and each time i have squeaked/screamed/made a nuisance of myself.

pacing round the cemetery. routine.

calling up my mom to tell her im a loser 🔥

darkness descends

how not to feel shame dancing, kissing, when there are others tortured, raped and enslaved, dying alone and with noone to save them. i see people smiling in the street and see my own laughter in their shiteating grins. i think of evil whenever i feel safe or have sex, eat a good meal, lie in bed.

another day of shame

my bf says that i am always in a daze, that i am too cerebral to take care of myself. “no, im not” i said and then proceeded to put on my shirt backwards and look for dry pasta in my fridge.

my mind simply overrides the coldness of my ice bath. i am warm, i say to myself. i am warm. nobody responds. thats just how strong i really am.

if the robotgirl gotta face can you even call yourself a machine fucker #HonestThoughts

Hunting dragons ❤️‍🩹

if you handed me 1000 dollars i would immediately buy a pair of guidi zip boots and go right back to wishing i had money

she like i love ur collar puppy, but thats chrome hearts bitch get the fuck off me!!!

when you gonna stop eating shrimps with the wimps and come drink blood with a chud

Terada Shigeru, 1985