Sex Isn't Sexy Unless It's A Little Bit Gross. Have You Forgotten That You Are A Divine Ape? Plastic

inside you are two wolves. one is diet coke heart-shaped sunglasses vintage diners red nail polish lollipops soft ice-cream knee-high socks lipstick stains girl blogger. the other is black coffee rainy weather turtlenecks secret history notes app poetry hand-held vhs camera autumn cable-knit sweaters tote bag thrift stores chunky rings.

does it ever just hit you that, like, woah, i am a bundle of blood and organs and gold and stardust held together by skin and sunburn and scars and i exist with billions of other bags of skin in this silly little society on this silly little rock in this silly little universe that is impossibly massive and i am impossibly teeny tiny in the grand scheme of humanity, and humanity is impossibly teeny tiny in the grand scheme of everything and everyone and everything i know will be reduced to dust and ashes in a blink and there is nothing i can do to prevent the constant and omnipotent advance of time-

and then you're just like damn okay and go back to doing your silly little human business

ink-stained fingers, crumpled sheets of unfinished poetry, withered roses, lipstick on the rim of a coffee cup, dark chocolate, forgotten gods, starless nights, red candles, bloody knees, ribbons in hair

if i had a penny for every fictional hedonist called henry that is possibly probably gay for their best friend and ruined their lives/the lives of others 'for the aesthetic' i would have three pennies, which isn't much, but it's weird that it's happened thrice

convinced that 96% of my problems would be solved if i had a private library

am i more productive at nighttime or am i so choked with responsibility and duty during the day that my free time is now only ever available to me when in exchange for a sacrifice of tomorrow's wellbeing? (because apparently revenge nighttime procrastination is an actual thing??)

"self-care," i whisper to myself for the fifth that day as i create a new pinterest board to save my silly little pictures to instead of acknowledging the ever-growing pile of revision looming on my consciousness

BEHOLD!!!!!!

i have never wanted anything more in my life than this little grumpy old-man frog. he is beautiful. he is majestic. but he is not mine :(

he would be king of the world if plushies could be elected into positions of power.

look at him. grumpy old man. oh, what woes burden your little froggy back, froggy man? he'd totally yell at kids for kicking their footballs onto his little toadstool garden and squashing his herbs.

baroque in the 21st century

i’d rot with you too, if i could

tumblr post by @girlhorror​ / revenge by xxxtentacion / the lovers of valdaro / lazarus rises (amongst other things) by @icaruspendragon​ / mahmoud darwish / gravestone of james robert irwin and millie michaels irwin / wuthering heights by emily brontë