#I want to write letters and make cute cards and send random shit and stickers and stuff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

2sevenkristens · 6 years

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The thoughts of a highly famous gal or chap - writing deeply of the raw longing for what we call a normal life- withdrawn from the spot light- not just a couple lines stitched together but a bleeding cry- a 69 flip of the slippery (unstable curiously). An Alcoholic mudhole<that kind> the writing of the stuck(or maybe not)- just show me the wiggling wonder of an unknown existence. What is it like to run on the only thing you know neatly? The Keen Kernaled Firecap. The flame in those lilacs descend as a stranger in my chair - In my pile of change on the floor in my Samaritan stainshed. At random we gallop- in our grape soda "Ballerina Sometimes". Our Lulu respirators. Yanked and slanted- All the Hank scorpions of a Razoring Reprinting- remalping spun chimes into our razzling neighbors boomstamps. The exchange of pudding and soupsounds-their recipe books- balking-in the house of our breakthrough we chant. Champion sonnets for our vigorous debate. We race in fort Brag (shut your damn cloudgrip) *oh grant me A Serenity* And We stick forks in the graves of the animal house- (Stack your monkey for the local farmers) Stack your monkey. Stamp your cunt with stickers of Disney characters- (don't tell me what to do) But treat me as I am. Bury yourself alive in Bettys Humble Cave. The sketch is vital. The sketch. Figure out your mean Mister . - Water this mold -shiver in your panicroom- for I love it there- invade the bug there. Slave to the snare. "I went through a Bad break up - and became a belly dancer for six weeks"- -Something Devin said on the R5 train- we were sitting on the side the sun met directly -me at the window-head against the glass. Casted and sailing and listening to Some Silly Crusher- her old adorable band in the garage- puffer lodge. Sparkled duck in the disco scrab. She wore a hat with animal ears- cute Caligula on exit mode. Songs about sex- acid rocked teenager playing fanboy line1. Ha! Fuzz. Here were two little girls in matching Japanese pancakes bopping at what we did -what we said - how we were pranksters- pins-pins- Alone. I smile when I think of our cared marshmallow horizon. Clicking our red shoes to the rhythm of the Louie Roses. More fuzz. -and some things make me laugh, Mrs Stiff and Squalid lashes. Got it? Its these small pickles of time condensed and skewed by our barnacle language. I dig MY OWN fingers into it- stroke the letters and BAKE them into my o- Into my own- Skulled cards. Read them Mrs. Muzzle. Flip your stupid grilled cheese sandwiches and look at the world's fat pink backhand- Put on this jacket of smacked lessons- so that your grasslands will grow and grow and graze over everything that is complete and sacked with carcass garbage. I got off the stuff. Needles in the trash. LISTEN UP. I did it okay and can laugh laugh laugh all I want to!☆ Take a plunge my Lady Locked. Look at me unchain myself. Look- see that it's real. Run into your own shiver. Shake the jukebox like your riding the best cock of your life. Like your riding the best. Hard knock. Knox Ride Woman. Crack those knuckles. -Women. Hopellessly devoted to the tightening up- to the unbuckling. Udon - seringe- violet snake. I am Needless- only for his rushing - rushing medical attention. Lumbered. Mastered. Mouth. Mumbled. Sedated. Sucked. Sore. Sorry. Im a Silly little brat. Still wining. Still looking at Your Hunt - Still looking at Your Ghost And the I heart huckabees cornucopia collie- Unstable in the bakery. Unstable in this bakery. Back with you at my high school job. My skirt is falling down as the phone ring rings - ringing past 3. Swung to all four of This Rooms Corners. My hands have dough dusted along the crev. Life lines filled up with the white. Oh Man. Youre pulling it down. Boss is gone. Doomed (in the corner i am) Spread like Marie's fine drapes- Then drug out by your invader. Caked. Situated in a drowning for your Pynchon diagram. The Last laugh- the last cry- so what ones going to be better? Both tennis balls being slacked by your racket- spanked by your partners. Shooting saliva -smock samples all over the floor. Beat by the sun- stomped by those gum souls. Chest breaking. We are Dead in the middle- Ha ha- you mangled- silly mango. Such a meaty texture. Suching. Seven sighs. ×Parking lots in the evening× "I am sorry to hear that you are unhappy with the work you are not doing" -again- I am laughing- Carter skips jokes in the air like rocks on the water. Slump. Yeah I complain about more than- [sink lower]- more things than just the W E A T H E R

Extreme in its soaked bag of a cloak-father. The Immediate dose- of hot thick suds in the veins. Spap me up. Soap your fingers up inside of me. We are drowning. Defend yourself. Make yourself think u can control me- can you? Send me off with your spoons. Gonna hit up my friend now- Jump in the van Time for sad piano. And we all drive in this rain And all the emerald leaves make out like French girls (palms around the cone- tounge gliding the cream) She is cut out to be teaching Him too- and probably me- let's all spin ourselves so fast around on the playground together. Let's make ourselves sick and forget our big big uncharitable dreams. Because we lust so bad for living- so let me brush up against these things I want so badly- almost lose them- throw them in the backseat of the car- clean up- vacume the car- find the things- thumb tack them to my boards- my chest- drag the tacks down. Carve out. I will show you me doing that. Again- can you? *watch*- can ya watch now- Sweaty doll- ripple me soft. Rip the rug from under me. I sware to God- M83 Godzilla- You will meet her absolutely. Haron Ontario Michigan Eerie Superior. Swung from the branches of all their rock hard-packed veins stemming to the ether- always racing out there away from our sunny land -magazine. Oh Ethan Tramadol - put us to sleep in the Lakes Lundragon. Snap our necks on the sandstone pie crust around it's ex- Next lover. Pierce our genitals. Pound our vox to the Yeasayer. Hit so hard it's black now but hey Hit so hard i am back now But hey Five seconds of the look on your face when I charge a fireballed- eye core. When I say goodbye and you fall out. When you go down my (Fuq- you know what you do) Some people listen - touch themselves over that five seconds - Five seconds stretched - looped and pulled- tugged- bulldogged delerious. It was those five long seconds of how she responded- how she didn't know yet- the way it made her grind against the wheel. Wilming around all hot and boilng - a bug in the pot. Unfixed under the hot wax of your cranked rhyme. Interupt this. Make yourself available- then dont- again back and forth we turn this glock. Licking limbs for a converged - silver death. Bubbling Moth. Mulp. SLing cuff. (It's discing) Straight through me shooting paper airplanes through the tinsel tolls- quiver in the stables. A Sorting spudged light driphouse- clipping in a couples pop. Jamming butterscotch oxygen - Smudgeing these suffering thighs on torched - testy freight trains. This skull(rather). Skum ray. The Scallion rape in stages game . Batter on the field sinner stays pillow tape- It's here- drooling. Pink bows on the stains. okay My Leading Knightfall- you jet velvet connotation-I know you see my PALLETS. Look the other way- fill up your boots with gauges. Cage yourself. Bail your hurt for Melody to write about- masterbate then write about you're misbehavings on Rye. B side companions This Company car Like when Benny got off the stuff and betty got a job as a waitress - ( Bukowski knows it like I do)- scissors resting over our friends over ourselves. There is no Benny - bettys Mandy- Mandys your sister and everyone's your hiding place. We Write your faggy clasping fantasy all over your calves - i drain your statutory release so you don't murder 45 people even though you need to. I need to too. Take care of it in the slits of our creations- my creature. My slame. And Mom and dad were fighting again. Mom shoved dad into the book case - every single book fell off the shelf except for a book about - ((inhales)) ((Shakes head- shakes the weight off)) ((exhales)) ((nods head))- The one with all pictures- all those places that dad went. A book of slides. He showed us all of them on the wall. Every color cut it's life into the plaster. Plugged into his traveling tremendous. I was barely aged. I was Unaware of this life but was injected with the purity of it and it's journey towards the same thing that sat between my ribs and my fingertips at 6 six years old- 5 years -4-3-2-1- - - there. Slap me up into it Lover- take me to the wall- to the pixels- Mix it up with your cum on the bed sheet- Punish me in the night so I can cry for the places I miss and yearn for. You want the same. I don't give a shit what it looks like- tell me what you need to get there. How bad do you want to go there. Show me how you need me to be. Shove me- Bend me to your whistled fireplace. Time is shit here. Keep undressing me. Look deep into my pools. They've been raped - rung out by a uncontrollable spasm. That cool? It was The first book that made me realize I was broken. Dangling in the midst of a message threading itself back into my bones where it came from- birthed by the lips of my sick- lumpy fate. Dad met me here. The washroom of Our Home

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