aight , barbie ?

↳❝ i can’t stop thinking about you. ❞

ARE VIBE CHECKS STILL A THING?

   FINGERTIP  ROUNDS  UPON  AN  IVY  LEAF   .   waxy gloss suddenly  ,  profoundly adored  ,  cradled then into the bough of fingers for closer observation  .  he’s taken aback by the unexpected affinity for what colour expresses itself in the chloroplast   ------   a vivacious  ,  flourishing green  ;  healthy  ,  assured  ,  promising   [   is he doing this right  ?  the assignment of tangible description to the things that appeal still a new  ,  bumbling concept   ]   .   certainly it is colour perfection for heady summer grass  ,  however  ,  or soft moss nestled within the grooves of a tree’s bark  .  so many possibilities  .

   glance is stolen to companion  ,  then  ,  the hope to catch eyes even from distance across the path subtle  ,  though earnest  ;  acknowledged  .  late afternoon sunlight filters through tattering autumn branches  ,  casting golds and pinks and blues a watercolor smattering across roguish features  ,  shadows dancing in the glare of the sun  .  connor takes a photograph  ---  a mere blink of the eye  ---  deciding that he looks rather handsome  ,  like this  .

❝    i  don’t  know   —    ❞    cursory words spill from your mouth,   orbs desperately searching around the room for  anything  other than red ice.    ❝    you can analyze  anything?    ❞    it’s a question more-so for yourself,   digits lifting to scratch the nape of your neck.    sudden  lightbulb!    eyes widen as your crane your head in his direction as digits extend towards your companion.    ❝    if you can analyze anything,   do  it  to  me.     ❞

    ❛❛   A  FAIR  ENOUGH  CHOICE   .   ❜❜  

   if perhaps a little safe  .  grasp closes light around partner’s wrist   [   you’ve made your bed  ,  now lay in it   !   ]  ,  before lips part for entry  ,  encasing two digits past the middle phalanx  .  sucking  .  hot tongue presses flat to the pad of a fingertip  ,  then tightens to dig beneath a nail for what skin cells certainly survive there  .  both pull for cross  -  reference of d.p.d. staff database  ,  and u.s. civilian database   ---   offering more than enough information to authenticate its little party - trick  . 

SCREEN SHOT - SWANS. no pain, no death, no fear, no hate / no time, no now, no suffering / no touch, no loss, no hand, no sense / no wound, no waste, no lust, no fear / no mind, no greed, no suffering / no thought, no hurt, no hands to reach / no knife, no words, no lie, no cure / no need, no hate, no will, no speech / no dream, no sleep, no suffering / no pain, no now, no time, no hear / no knife, no mind, no hand, no fear

WARPING - DEATH GRIPS. psychotropic steel trap, rock a beat-up bears hat / aaw man, i don't feel this and i shit on your guilt trip / then extinguish your illness like seven grams of thorazine / tyrannic authority cleansed by your aggressor / inhuman elitist, decline your surrender / sign of the freak thriving on a bender / forbidden discipline, all lines disconnected / vacated premises occupied by my death-wish

DU RIECHST SO GUT - RAMMSTEIN. the tracks are fresh and on the bridge / drips of sweat, your warm blood / i don't see you, i only smell you, i sense you / a predator screaming from hunger / weathering you down for miles

KINGDOMS (G) - SUN 0))). no lyrics just Vibez

@renzao ( . . . )

fever in her bones,       heat   consumed   her.   heavy gas in her lungs,  body elated and incandescent.   insensate with longing,   bloated tongue.   raw,  like melted fat.   he   is a means to an end,  a mere   passing.   another name,  another face,   another  victim.   all longing between her stomach and throat.   another   weak  man.

❛❛   terribly  sorry!   ❜❜     as she tears into him.   coagulated blood marred her flesh,  scent dug in and echoes of rushed hearts dominating her.   exposed insisors piercing into the jugular,  severing and all but dying black hair merlot.   nails raised,  extended and jointed from the bone,  piercing and prying open flesh;   gouging out holes.   scraping back skin,  open grazes and raw blistered wounds.     (   what  horrible  haven’t  i  done?   i’m  irredeemable.   )     it stopped being   justice   along time ago.   it’s the one with teeth in his shoulder,   limb  from  limb.   copper take on broken shins,  sadistically decomposing in her own meconium.   fucking  rotten,   like acid patterning skin.   now cadaver,  fingers   pressed   deep in his throat,  an end to screaming.     (   stupid  omnivore.   )

she can   feel   him before he sees her.   her mouth cracked   wide,   lips curved in the shape of desire.   teeth dig into welts,  piercing tenderized flesh.   unhinged,   heavy  click  of the jaw.   blood stained rosary   twisted   around her throat,  pearls patterned with the carmine.     you’ve  been  looking  for  me.   here  i  am.     creating slaughterhouses,  plundering wrist deep and    a   cold   pause.   how it satisfies,  thighs   pressed   together;       (   …   )       several   long,     sharp  clicks.

   STARE  A  CRUMBLING  ABYSS   ,   BOOTS  ROOTED  TAR  AS  HE  WATCHES  HER   .   that face   ---   poor bastard   ---   with too  -  pale eyes gazing listlessly upwards  ,  too many stars unseen as guts leak   ---------   long  ,  greasy tubules bursting forth from opened fat  ,  nicked wetly to spill their contents   [   sturgeon caviar and gold leaf make for a grotesque display of humor  ;  what an  ostentatious  last supper   ]   .   the bone structure cracks through the mouth  ,  flesh like bruised fruit  ,  blooming purple and blue and dripping  ,  beauty distant through the abstract of gory finger  -  painting   (   maybe once , this man was pretty  :  square jaw and a heavy brow  .  thick hair  .  he doesn’t need to identify the body   )   .   it’s reprehensible now  ,  perhaps even lamentable  ,  teeth and ribcage scattering a broken beaded heirloom to halo the tangle of dark curls  ,  inspissated oozing  .  

   SOME  COYOTE   .   she is existence perfected  ,  divine opportunity expressed in too many teeth  .  spine crawls into the occipital  ,  ice skating between the vertebrae as he observes  ,  detached  ,  curiously unaffected despite the trailer trash movie scene spread out a picking platter before him  .  he should be horrified  .  distraught  .  bile should be making its way up his throat  ,  gun in hand  .  and yet   . . .   

   ❛❛   channel four certainly won’t miss that one   .   ❜❜           lips move unprompted through that disembodiment  ,  muffled as if through water  ,  bubbling carbon dioxide  .  he barely anchors the depravity hitting the back of the brain  ,  comprehension strained and yet  . . .  gun remains holstered  .  relief betrays him  ,  almost sheepish if not for the rampant incredulity  .          ❛❛   truth be told i've always  hoped  death upon that piece of shit  ,  but    ---------    ❜❜