dirty white

bloodmilk.

this room is white and dirty and too small for conversations. sadness or maybe just a sense of discomfort. she envisions others, in this moment, clutching wine bottles in candle lit basements and at the edge of chairs by fat notebooks. it’s all a big fucking mess! get off the road in a flaming accident where there’s noise and people die big deaths in the deep black-brown mud of nowhere. silver sands, sweat on the walls.

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pleasures

bohemianhomes:  Penabranca First Full Moon Art Print

I look down, the grey spectres are fading. Wind crashes against me up here and grabs my hand with familiar fingers that pull and pull hard in all directions. The entirety of the world below, thousand grains and shadows. Bow for me as I reach my arms to the sky and eat of the stars like fruit. Can you see, the stains on my neck are are fading too? When I scream the world will know it. I give in again and again.