any tips for developing discipline? ive been going through life on a lackadaisical hedonist build but ive got a bunch of mysterious problems that i may or may not be at fault for
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@apromisethatimade
any tips for developing discipline? ive been going through life on a lackadaisical hedonist build but ive got a bunch of mysterious problems that i may or may not be at fault for

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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derek jarman - blue (1993)
sorry angels i keep posting and deleting and reposting poems because of diction and formatting brainworms ââË.â also im always in search of writer moots if anyone ever wants to workshop poetry or prose together!

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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never in my life do i feel more like a teenage boy then when listening to elliott smith in the middle of the night in my room for hours on end
Emily Skaja, from "I Liked Myself Better as an Exquisite Skeleton", pub. The Offing [ID'd]
âjump!â (2005)

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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meditations in an emergency - cameron awkward-rich
Emily Skaja, from "I Liked Myself Better as an Exquisite Skeleton", pub. The Offing [ID'd]
âVisible Lightâ series by Alexander Harding

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Hammond B3 Organ Cistern by Gabrielle Calvocoressi
The days I donât want to kill myself
are extraordinary. Deep bass. All the people
in the streets waiting for their high fives
and leaping, I mean leaping,
when they see me. I am the sun-filled
god of love. Or at least an optimistic
under-secretary. There should be a word for it.
The days you wake up and do not want
to slit your throat. Money in the bank.
Enough for an iced green tea every weekday
and Saturday and Sunday! Itâs like being
in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ.
Just reeks of gratitude and funk.
The funk of ages. I am not going to ruin
my loveâs life today. Itâs like the time I said yes
to gray sneakers but then the salesman said
Wait. And there, out of the back room,
like the bakeryâs first biscuits: bright-blue kicks.
Iridescent. Like a scarab! Oh, who am I kidding,
it was nothing like a scarab! It was like
bright. blue. fucking. sneakers! I did not
want to die that day. Oh, my God.
Why donât we talk about it? How good it feels.
And if you donât know then youâre lucky
but also you poor thing. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Let the whole neighborhood hear. Come on, Everybody.
Say it with me nice and slow
âââno pillsââno cliffââno brains onthe floor
Bring the bass back.ââââno ropeââno hoseâânot today, Satan.
Every day I wake up with my good fortune
and news of my demise. Donât keep it from me.
Why donât we have a name for it?
Bring the bass back. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Hallelujah!
god loves losers. god loves the failure to thrive, the wrist checks, the negelcted, the thin, the risky. he is tiered, he is rooting for the least of you. his charmers he lifts from nothingness; his kings turn out fruitless. he loves the fruitlessness. he licks wounds, he's into that. he recalls the forgotten. he's telling his refugees to garden in foreign kingdoms. he's telling his prophets to tie themselves in rope and remain on the ground. this god is the god of losers, lovingly, thrummingly, nostalgic like that