I need to delete Twitter off of my phone because someone posted these [from 2018] over there and now I'm rattling at the bars of my cage. I will never not be haunted by them

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@hageny
I need to delete Twitter off of my phone because someone posted these [from 2018] over there and now I'm rattling at the bars of my cage. I will never not be haunted by them

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Kieran Culkin and J. Smith Cameron | Chris Norr
No. 141
Monkey on my back The architect of my own death The bottom became scenery Crushed the future under me
Cruel violence fuels cruel apathy, this world I am slave to stares blankly back Foaming mouths of devourers stagnate me Dying embers keep me warm, I cling, delirious, to memory The past awakens me
Monkey on my back The architect of my own death The bottom became scenery Crushed the future under me
Take me to the marrow, to the sweet fantasy, to the memory of body heat Fuel for the derelict in me, the recall is complete Sweet waters, disregard dark shadows in my body The past is always yours
Monkey on my back The architect of my own death The bottom became scenery Crushed the future under me In the spiral--flesh on flesh Words reverberate again Sugar on a canker sore Each day extricates a little more Fuse the pain with memory I will soften you in me
The veil will close on us as suffering grows tedious
I admit openly that I am tired, that often the world passes without my notice, that my ink has turned invisible, my language a mere desperate vying for sound; I admit that, somewhere, I hear the waves of unknown oceans break on shorelines I will never see. That I recognize what is impossible in my life: Dreams, travel, love’s bright-star. I can say that I bear it, this knowing, and that I recognize it briefly, from time to time, as a stranger amongst Loveless faces does. And that I do this because I must. I want to be real. And then not. Here, another twilight, absent of ceremony, passes as the wind does. Siteless and like a phantom, I am carved from my own wish for reaching.
Beautifully written, and heartbreaking.
jan smit looking at jan smit looking at rocks

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No. 140
Feed their gregarian appetite Salivate at the trough The snake doubles downward Death crushes bone Seize on this silence, seize on this violence Abandoning hope Behold! This fate was always yours These spiders in the your skull walk the walls Death has always been yours Come down to me, mingle in this agony Limbs are stacked horizontally The spineless have no identity Their bones are only dust in the shadows Lay their flesh near the shore Suck dry all their marrow Abandoning yours Behold! This empire of sand will decay Their cries are drowned out by the swarm Death has always been yours Fool, bend your head before me, beg for release, for your pain to subside--that I may swallow the grief In the ash the skin curls back from the bone In this insidious wrath that I have Abandon all hope Ancient seas, bones wash ashore Dirty tides, the vortex churns Flesh feeds death, ever onward Leave no trace, blank face, forward
No. 139
Distant cries, distant lullabies in the bloody river Hands corroded severed from their arms A mother's grief arrives at dawn--the child is gone Deceit remains Darkens the day Each one they kill Remains a dream Abyss feels malcontent Savagery corrodes the bones until nothing is left Lungs inhaling dust Kings devoid of love Devour us
Deceit remains Darkens the day Each one they kill Remains a dream Each one they kill lies naked in the streets, every holocaust born in belief Over bodies angels weep Under skies He watches, horrified Another affliction of mankind Bathed in a glorious light all will die All crawled for peace at the hills of Zion Children slaughtered Lambs martyred And still they rose to the dawn of a new day... Struck the apostles low All our children cried as the Zionists raged on All their taste for blood old as the visions of St. John The cries of angels could only say it once--Revelation Horses in the distance raging on, the seventh seal is broken Death will come Man is God Man is his god--but what has he done...
one time this nondescript guy came into my dunkin donuts and ordered a small black coffee with blueberry flavor shot, and for some reason that peculiar order stuck with me so much that when, seven months later, i saw him in the parking lot walking towards the door, i quickly made a small black coffee with blueberry flavor shot. he ordered it and i was already holding it.
i would describe his demeanor that second time as “incredulous”
What the fuck who drinks that
it’s such a perfectly bonkers order because like, most unusual orders are maximalist and sugary but this one just combines the most basic drink with the most incongruous little add-on. it’s the order of a simple, regular man who has something wrong with him
this post always makes me laugh. this guy has the weirdest drink order and he probably never goes to this dunkin’ if it took seven months for the barista to see him again. so think about a coffee shop you go to so little you’re not even sure if you’ve gone there before and you walk in and the barista hands you the drink you were about to order before you even ordered it. he will remember that for the rest of his life
“it’s the order of a simple, regular man who has something wrong with him” gets me every time.
Official Post of Massachusetts
I don’t have a hard time believing this.
Crows are smart as fuck I don’t even begin to doubt the veracity of these stories
A crow perched on a shrine boarder bowed back to me once while I was living in Japan. I was in laughing hysterics and a bit freaked out all the rest of the way home. Crows are fantastic and terrifying.
ℑ𝔩𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔐𝔞𝔫𝔲𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔭𝔱 🐉 Inspired by medieval manuscripts and embellished tales of heroism | webstore link
I LOVE THIS

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they need to make an app for the mentally ill …
this is the app we r on it rn babe
there's no greater betrayal than finally starting to read a book you've had sitting for months on your shelf or your desk or your nightstand and then finding out it's bad. like. i gave you a fucking home.
No. 138
The fat larvae hatch in her mouth, the dirt falls under her feet, the moon is fat, cascading on her empty nest. Crippled, she trembles, no longer do we play. Lift your weak head, there is just a sigh, that is just the melody. Sense the regress, taste the vacant future. All is blind, you hatched inside your own abyss. Come calling, come crawling to these arms again. He watches you, he’ll punish you because you let him. He watches you, he’ll annihilate you because you earned it. The dawn will break, but only on your paper skin--thin, aging, you drift alone into the harbor. Call her, believe that she will carry you. For all time, for the moment I will crush you. Soothe, clean the ooze on my face. I am crushing you, every time you hear my voice; each time you go to sleep, I feel around your sad insides. The milk is dead, there is a serpent on the chest. The moment dissolves, you palm the wall, praying for light. The creases deepen, the senses weaken, forgiveness will not be given. Fall asleep, inside of me, there is nowhere else for you. Fall asleep, latched to the breast, there is nothing left for you.
No. 137
An abscess, an empty womb Malformed human Combs the shores, malnourished It's teeth wide open Violent death, a lullaby Blood sanctifies Turns the slaughter to a martyr All are deified In the shadows the Sabbath begins In an iron fist souls are waiting for death
Symbology suffers its greed Thirty three masters arrive for the feast Divine order loses its form Chaos draws forth Broken corpses at my feet, a prayer begins Rusted waters, hidden heads of my two daughters Disembowel the sun, pray for the young The predators flock to the feast The voiceless will speak of their own suffering My withered hands groping for Spring, aching in the confessional Shadows cooling the flesh, obeying the call of the Beast The purpose is given by predators pulling the strings In this Holocaust I will leave my sternum open In the dirt--alert!--I know the truth is coming

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“The Driver” by Jordan Bolton
My first book ‘Blue Sky Through the Window of a Moving Car’ is out now! Order it here - https://smarturl.it/BlueSky
No. 136
A new order arrives at the solstice A decade of time will swallow the sun The lovers hid in the empire Faces of clay Fingers decay--fools! The sand draws violently under Washes away Amniocentesis Cradle clutches the fetus The taste of flesh lingers Tongues in the ether Ragged breath on the bones of a lamb Enfold in the breast all that remains The embers will linger Empire of sand Enslaved to the parasites Aeons of time could never fool us Consume us But, oh, how it feels so real Lying here with no one near Only you and you can hear me When I say softly slowly My scorn, my rage--a parasite! Infant bones, never came to pass The ground shakes under your feet The earth remembers me Dawn arrives All will die Breathless, the pressure crushes us Follows us Each time I held you tightly in my grip A new age brings the same old predator The hour of our death is near! The predator will lick his lips Each time the suffering begins...
AN: The fourth verse is borrowed from Elton John's Tiny Dancer.