Why did I take Spanish?
Seriously.
If I were tumblr famous, I’d post something really meaningful and get about 300 likes and then change it so it said “Like if you think I’m sexy”. And 300 people would think I was sexy.
EGO LEVEL: OVER 9000.
I live a very hollow existence, don’t I?
Poor Guy
About five minutes ago, a bullet entered through his skin a little above and to the right - your right, I guess - of his left nipple, and another bullet split the jutting spike of bone that clings like a freshwater limpet to the frame of his collarbone, and a third bullet, just for kicks, shaved a millimetre off his eyebrow before biting straight through the cartilage of his left ear to rattle half-assedly against the concrete wall above the sugar-stained screen of an ATM. The first shot would’ve killed him almost instantly, the second give him the grinding momentum to slump a little, the third toss his hair like a whore even as the blood filmed the punchhole and ran in the contours of his fungus-stained pectoral muscles to pool in his solar plexus like oil into an angled lacquer dish. He looks a little unceremonious for a sacrifice. Funny how that works.
Pretty
From the seed springs the tree
And from the ember spawns the flame
From the seed will spring forth the flame
In time
I care nothing for your sacred forests
And I care nothing for your sacred lives
Give me your hands, there’s nothing can atone for crime
And we all burn
In time
If you want some kind of renaissance
I’ll give you rebirth
Lie down on the embryonic ground
Give me your hands, your precious Earth
I think you killed the things I loved
I doubt I’m right in the head
We all burn in time, in fire, in chlorine and quicklime
Now lie down and lie dead
Oh, what’s a simple summer breeze
When I take away the trees?
It’ll be just like when things were young
And the Earth shone red beside the Sun
Purity
Can’t you see?
Hey kids:
I jus’ done bought mahsel’ a sweet ol’ mandolin t’ cater for all mah travellin’ gee-tar withdrawal needs.
One-hundred U-K pounds sure does look like hella good value fer a solid wood mandolin. I’m crossin’ mah fingers, anyway.
Ask box open!
Closes: N/A
Reblogs aren’t questions. AAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAaargh.
My ask box
is always open. I’m serious. Ask me things.
I just registered a few of my poems for the Foyle’s Young Poet’s competition, but they say I’m not really supposed to have published my poetry, so I’d, y’know, appreciate it if all of you went and, I dunno, lobotomised yourselves. Just to be safe - erasing all memories of my poetry ever existing. You know how it is.
Analysis
There is the kind of person who does well at school, has nice parents who may or may not be split up, and who will quietly drift through life with achievements and a nice partner and a decent house to look forward to. He may develop an interest in yoga or ornithology or Vietnamese molluscs and probably die in his sleep. I do not like these kinds of people because they do not think thoughts and make me feel small.
There is the kind of person who is essentially fucked by age 12. This kind of person is likely to be good at team sports, is either loudly misogynistic or quietly racist, and is loaded on vodka for at least three thirteenths of their life. Later in life they may become the first person. I do not like these people either. They also make me feel small.
Then there is the third kind of person. This person thinks thoughts and feels like they’re fucked when they’re probably not. This is the kind of person who stumbles between events and occasionally scores. Sometimes they do not become one of the others, and sometimes they do.
I do not like these people either. They remind me of me and write things like this.
From this I conclude I do not like people, and yet am forced to rely on them because otherwise I get inexplicably lonely and feel the need to write pointless fake analyses.
That’s one exam over, 15 to go. Fuck me, that’s a lot.
Sorry.
I’m sorry that I haven’t written anything recently, or drawn anything good, or done anything particularly productive. I haven’t been feeling so wonderful - friendships, the looming kitchen knife of exams (the first of which is tomorrow, and which I’m liable to fail), new meds, that kind of thing - and I feel like letting off some steam ‘cause I haven’t for a while. I hope it’ll pass soon, but in the meantime I’m sorry if I’m even more of a miserable fucker, more sweary, or less creative than usual. Thanks guys.
Oh, drama lessons…
