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Get Beat Up I fucking love waking up with a broken nose, swollen eyes, hungover, cold, gutter-stench sallow in last night’s damp rags. The lace on my left shoe is missing for some reason. I’m covered head to toe in caked mud, or shit… it’s all over the floor, footprints stitching a path from the doorway to the bathroom to in front of the couch where I apparently fell and blacked out, leaving a sort of lurid black snow angel in my wake. Jake is still in the bathroom, face-down in the toilet where he passed out. He’s pissed his pants. Hope he’s not dead. Smells like it. Maybe it’s better if he is.Get Beat Up by ~InShiningArmor
No, probably not.
T
a poem about your skin. you are covereda poem about your skin. by ~Amertie
by land, a lithosphere,
a continent sprinkled
with snow. i watch
sky-water run
off your surface, leak
into cracks. i name
your freckles after cities,
your eyes after oceans. you
are a world, my world, but this
is only a layer.
be my nicotine they're closing inbe my nicotine by ~SubstituteSadist
no room to breathe
i'm pulling skin
until it bleeds
we're breaking clocks
and stomping leaves
so we'll go down
in history
love me harder
whisper truth
you're breaking hearts
i'm breaking you
hate your freckles
skin tastes like sun
clouds come and rain
on everyone
please tell me that
you really care
my nerves are numb
my back is bare
let's press our lips
against the glass
and make our heaven
out of wax
i'm breathing in
my lungs are black
Sta.sh
Peaceful 
