Riding the Current

plushies love our thick pit and heavy musk

We just want to be our happy little circlejerk of constellations again

Hold tight to that burning bundle of matches you& struck. It will burn you&. It must burn you&. Otherwise, it isn't real. Hold tight even as you&r skin boils and melts, true colors leaking from you&r wounds. How true you& are never matters as the flames boil and burn that truth and consume it as fuel for itself. A living candle - wax and wick - fueling the fires within and burning from outside in. Both sides drip, drip, drip away, leaving us a thin and hollow facade what the matches made.

suck, fuck, sob, repeat.

Learning to fly with broken wings

time to run

we don’t fit

gravity assisted cumshot

we don’t read the future. we make it

Sexually Transmissible Gluten

we are stretching ourself like silly putty, so laugh please.