Имаше Едно Такова Време

A Frankensteinian story will always be inherently queer, as its premise is rooted in the creation of a human being without heterosexual intercourse.

a handprint made in concrete is just the image of a hand, it’s not the real thing. or, it’s the absence of a hand, more than anything, the negative space. the casing around where it should be. it’s an indent that was made from something real - that could not have existed without something real - but it’s not the real thing, it’s just trying to be. maybe it’s not even trying. you put your hand there with your mother and the concrete remembers, and the handprint doesn’t even know why it exists, it just does. if we can make copies and not-things from real things in the world, who’s the say the world couldn’t do that itself? does it even need to know why?

it's because you're always in that damn coffin

It was a clitorical question

wiping my cheeto dust hands on your shirt. i want to build a beautiful life with you

i’m like a clown that no one hired or pays

Yearning for someone who doesn't exist

Or giving a monkey a shower

"it's just stress" oh thank god, it's just the silent killer that slowly kills you, perfectly harmless, no need to worry