Loose scribblins

[dead man]

Originally Posted by Bodey

I’m nervous a lot, sad on purpose, distraught. An evil journalist plots against herself more than not, as if she likes to curve her palms around a furnace that’s hot. Slurpin up snot as she curses and flops from the tourniquet, shot, and now she’s teething curbs across her worthlessness—stop. Stop her impervious thoughts, they’re undeservingly cropped between the hemispheres, locked, until she sheds a tear, drops, and hurts beyond her years like a subservient clock

A blended scheme of madness, a commending lean to ratchets; a faggot with some matches covered in the devil’s gasses. Oh, it’s tragic, but I like it. The fact is I’m a dyke bitch that’s a magnet for the vices. A flight risk that the flies sniff before the rigamortis bites in. And starts to chortle as it tightens, and snorkels hepatitis and burrows indecisive like a human to a light switch; oh how dare I write this. There’s no use in tryna fight this. I’m a pussy like a slightly sliced wrist in the middle of a night shift

@Objective is absolutely right.

your brief returns into the fold of anxious sublimation through this weird little craft we have here is always welcome. seeing a bodey post is a relief in an odd way. that we're all still out there doing this thing.

this might, or might not, be a good time to suggest that it will be okay. we're all getting through it however we can manage.

your writing is dope. your person is dope. it all shines through when you press submit.

hope all is well my dude




black