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she's just a victimonce upon a time, there was a girl who couldn't stop eating and a boy who did nothing but drink all day. they grew up in towns with different names but the same graffiti, from screaming tantrums and popping candy to breaking bottles and kissing necks. the girl told the last boy she had between meals that her name was mayflower, and when he whispered it into her skin she could feel it wilting on his lips, and the boy, well, his teeth were far too heavy to say anything at all. boy met girl and girl ate boy under the summer sun in the middle of lunch, and by teatime they knew the taste of the other's tongue.she's just a victim
their life was a tea pa
by =whitenightglasses
this is not me saying sorryhello you,this is not me saying sorry
it's been a few weeks now
but numbering the days,
is really just a waste of the time i'll use to try to make you
acknowledge that i still exist.
x.
i wonder if one day you'll follow your gaze through the door, maybe to africa
or france. send me a card my dear [or even just a kiss] and
i'll keep dreaming that
if i sit with you tonight, everything will be
alright.
x.
if
"this is the life"
we chose then baby
maybe
we need to keep our hands &n
by =whitenightglasses
show me your bones.you are a habit like bitten nails and the bloody skin that gives you away. you are a compulsion like twisting tongues around ground-down teeth until lies are peeling from the walls and the children are screaming for mummy. you are like legs writhing and moaning until femurs break and the leather sofa clings to our skin like a lover.show me your bones.
you tell me that i am a habit like food on the floor. i am like someone who's passion lies in throats and bathrooms and everything in-between. i am the body hidden under the floorboards because you just couldn't help yourself but i tell you that if i am the body, you are her name that only the mother
by =whitenightglasses
my moth mani met a moth man on the bus today. i don’t think he looked at me, but under those colours you couldn’t tell. he sat in front of me and from my seat i could see him shaking, like he was caught in the wind and pinned down to the upholstery of the bus. i guess it was the open window, but it could have been the daylight. i wanted to reach out and touch his skin but i was scared it would crumble under my fingertips and he would just be dust and then it would have been like he hadn’t existed. he was thin and delicate like the skeletons of leaves, but not as pretty as the butterfly women on the street. i wondered if he wasmy moth man
by =whitenightglasses
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˙lɐǝɹ sı ǝuıƃɐɯı uɐɔ noʎ ƃuıɥʇʎɹǝʌǝ
o.O
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Or do we all
Look. Just. Like:
Adolf fucking Hitler
With this swoopy emo-boy dreamy haircut
Dangling in our faces
Making us all indescribably indistinguishable from each other
IT WAS MAGICAl.
You must finish it!
Even if it takes you ALL NIGHT LONG.
Then I can make Layton-related puns and someone will understand!
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Or do we all
Look. Just. Like:
Adolf fucking Hitler
With this swoopy emo-boy dreamy haircut
Dangling in our faces
Making us all indescribably indistinguishable from each other
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