Don’t try to give me your busywork, cunt. You want to die, do it on your own time.
Now, your dreams and self-esteem, on the other hand…? I will murder that shit for you, pro bono.
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I love that porn is now half-sex, half-freakshow. A woman’s dignity has never once given me an erection.
Don’t give me that look. You know what you did.
She no longer needs her words; everything she has to say can be best expressed through her eloquent trembling.
My sweet little nothing, the girl whose truest poetry can only be written in the jagged meter of a thrill down the spine.
Men know things. For example, if you piss hard enough on a piece of shit, eventually it will break.
Just don’t forget to flush when you’re finished.
Before the trunk, light; after it, dark. Before the trunk, hope; after it, emptiness. Before the trunk, joy; after it, pain. Before the trunk, autonomy; after it, property.
It’s like a cocoon that turns butterflies back into caterpillars.
Condoms are just juice boxes for broken girls.
The future is coming to wreck you, grind you down and reject you. No matter how much you do, no matter the standards you meet nor the accomplishments you accrue, nothing will stop it.
You will crack. You will be crushed.… Read the rest “”
At some point in its life, this thing had a bright future. And now, it will always have a dark past.
Isn’t life delightfully poetic?
I believe these markings actually comprise a phrase in ancient Sumerian, which roughly translates to “I’m not qualified to run my own life.”