“She is rotting quietly under her skirts with a melancholy smile, like the odour of violets given off by a decomposing body.”
— – La Nausée, Jean-Paul Sartre.

if i look back, i am lost
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@hannahwritesshit
“She is rotting quietly under her skirts with a melancholy smile, like the odour of violets given off by a decomposing body.”
— – La Nausée, Jean-Paul Sartre.

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.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i am still picking your skin out of my teeth
my neck is still covered in those bruises
some nights you are still in my bed
as i pluck your hair from my pillows
i think your scent sunk in too deep
my sweat reminds me of your car
it’s still your fingers in my mouth
my fingers in your mouth
it’s still your
brown eyes your
tan skin your
hip bones
how they
poked into me
when i was on top
it’s your
slim fingers
how they
could touch me
like it was the first time
i had been touched
like you were
sewing together
my pores
leaving me
more whole than
i will ever be again
it’s still those
brown eyes
your lashes
how you
bit your lip when you looked at me
i could feel your eyes on me like they were hands
pull me apart like the threads in your sweater finger my heartstrings with those shaking hands sink into my chest three knuckles deep until I am undone completely
pick my name from your lips like cherries from their trees chew me up until i am dripping bittersweet onto your tongue and in the morning when my thighs are tired kiss them gently promise me i am the only lover who has stained you red and left you wanting
8.26.17

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.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
hi i started this blog when i was 15 and i’m a much better writer now so i guess i’ll post stuff
7.13.17
Some days I am the rain Others I'm a fog Some days I am heat lightning and Others I'm invisible thunder
Some days I'm blue grey and Others I'm deep purple Some days I'm a painting and Others I'm a sketch
Some days I am warm tea and Others I am bitter coffee Some days I am soft strums and Others I am loud screams
Some days I am an ever-persitant melencholy Some days I'm just sad Some days I am a slow and sticky dischord Some days I'm just lazy Some days I am a crippling sense of foreboding Some days I'm just anxious Some days I am a fitful and erratic disarray Some days I'm just jittery

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.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I can’t believe I’m just realizing the way your voice reminds me of the rain and how your eyes are my favorite shade of green and how your smiling teeth rip through me like a knife. Words pour from your lips like honey and if we were laying underneath the stars I don’t think I would even glance in the sky’s direction because I’ve wasted too much time looking to the stars for comfort and belonging when they were staring me in the face this whole time.
i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you
feelings on colors
Have you ever felt like the silence after a scream?
I have.
I’ve loved a green corolla.
I’ve loved the soft glow of a computer at 3am.
I’ve loved the day old scent of a bonfire.
I’ve loved a pack of marlboro reds.
I’ve loved a can of grape soda.

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.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Sixteen Candles, 1984 (dir. John Hughes)
The last time I was on this goddamn futon the air was warm with the heat of our bodies. And now laying here I feel a chill across my skin. Now the only thing I can count on for heat is this fucking blanket. The last time I spent the night here it was because you asked me to, because you anticipated the excitement I could bring. Now I practically pleaded for somewhere to stay because I just couldn't take the two of them anymore. The last time we were alone together you kissed my nose and pulled me closer. This time we just got high. The last time we slept together it was in the same bed. But you're in it alone now, and here I am on your fucking couch. The last time we were here at 3am you couldn't get enough of me Now you're just too nice to admit you don't want me around. The last time we slept together we were drunk. This time we're both sober and I'm sure as hell starting to wish we weren't.
12.5.15 (This time)