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okay but am i the only one who gets weirdly turned on by a good guitar solo?
I. no one wants bruised fruit, no one wants a bruised child either; no one wants fruit with broken skin, no straight-line scars; no one wants cherry-pit eyes, too dark and too wide; no one wants pomegranate-half lungs, heaving, catacombed in trickles of red, no one wants peach juice lies, leftover sweetness still sticky, dripping from my chin, doesn’t match my eyes; no one wants this rotten fruit heart, too full, overripe, dripping to burst, too messy, stains too dark. flies buzz around as if constellations encircling me, filling the darkness in my chest. II. blood and blackberry juice are the same color; which one do you think stained my last summer? did i drip sweet or salty? was mine a summer of unripe fruit or overripe desire? hunger swelled in me but what kind? i scratch my wrists open with blackberry thorns, overripe heart waiting to burst, red trickling from my veins, unripe fruit still on the branch, red trickling from its seeds. this sounds like a poem about sex this is not a poem about sex, this is a poem about how hunger and hatred feel kinda the same, hollow out your belly the same, shudder your fingers the same, crack your lips the same. this is a poem about having a hatred for hunger and a hunger for hatred. my mouth is crowded with razors; i have thrown away my teeth.
JUICE by s.l. (via goldenveins)
my dad had to be taken to the emergency room yesterday and will be in the ICU for a while, my mom and I don’t know how we are going to pay for this bill on top of the others, please consider purchasing stuff from my Etsy shop that I hand make out of 100 percent cotton. thanks yal
etsy.com/shop/lillieinez ❣️
Alex Webster of Cannibal Corpse
what the fuck is wrong with this movie
Nikki Sixx's nipple piercing reblog if you agree