| thick_slick_sick | ||
| misstree | there's too much gumming up the grey matter for things to even rattle properly. they ooze around like marbles in mucous. they rest heavy on the lowest point as i hang my head. they send messages of gravity to the stomach, which churns and mutters its weird song in sympathy. everything is a little darker, slower, uglier, heavier, needier, emptier, deader than it should be. i want to flush it all out. | 040315 |
| ... | ||
| stork daddy |
doomed, like a tarantula, like the great gatsby, to spin dark unseen webs, obscuring some truth from all but victims, but prey. the ugly neccessities. sometimes though, the twirl of a parasol, the slow jointed steps like waltzing, an acrid floor, paved over with pomp with decorum, ritual, rose colored curtains sheathing fangs. |
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