agnes montague in the style of ‘portrait of a heart’ by christian schloe
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youu know what maybe it's a good thiing ii dont have a boyfriend at the moment because the current state of my vernacular means there's a non-zero chaance that he'd say some cute shit and my only response would be "pogchampion" or "asymptotic my dude"
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maybe, if-
maybe
when
i finally find a way to
slip out of my body like you
slip out of your favorite shoes
maybe when i get to touch it
from the outside
and drag its full dead weight across the house to the bathtub
and submerge it in clear water under the all-forgiving, naked lightbulb
and scrub it until the skin gets tender and raw
and scratch up the new, soft and untouched flesh underneath
maybe then it will be clean
again
as God intended. as God intended.
rizlène, 15/02/22. ok2rb
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positivity for schizophrenics who cant write for shit!
positivity for schizophrenics who say the wrong word 80x in a row before giving up and everyone thinks theyre stupid as fuck!
positivity for schizophrenics whos thoughts are literally so disorganized nothing theyve ever done is complete or comprehensible!
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obsessed w posts like “tag [xyz accent indicator]!” as if that tells op anything about you as a person besides where you likely grew up. ask for tags like what size mechanical pencil lead u prefer and whether u write in black or blue ink, that’s what Tells You Shit abt people
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current aesthetic: i hated how my hair was sitting, then my dad told me it looks like how his dad used to wear it, and now i am wholeheartedly accepting the accidental 50s vibe
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these days
each ripple of desire holds your name within its crease. i want you.
you shouldn't smile at me the way you do, you shouldn't
hold me like that. you shouldn't let me touch you.
with ease and clear eyes, you say unspeakable things, almost distracted
i could kill you for half of them. i could kill for you.
the day i kiss you, i will scare you. you will fear me.
you can't possibly expect the way i'll hold your face,
the sounds i will allow to come out of me.
your own name will echo in your ears, foreign and new, wrapped in the brokenness of my voice
as i whisper it into your mouth
like a prayer. like a sacred thing. like a curse.
rizlène, 25/03/22. ok2rb
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