F U C K

“fuck. i wouldn’t know what to do if i had to stay sober while i worked.” the small girl flashed him a playful grin. he was nice, he could feel the intense ora in the room, he wasn’t going to hurt anyone. that always made her more comfortable. the vibe of the last shop had been dismal, to say the least. “what color are you thinkin’? i’ve always been a pretty drab kinda girl.” a delighted laugh crossing parted lips as she pushed up on the balls of her feet. but the moment he said the word ‘satanist’ her blood ran cold. the palms of her hands burned at the pure thought of the events that had taken her away from her own religious views. she shook it away with a wrinkle of her nose. “WICCAN! i’m a wiccan! Druid actually. this tattoo is to ward off darkness, see the gems are for light and protection and the mint leaves are for enlightenment and healing which,” she shrugged. “you probably don’t care but... you know. i’ll stop. sorry.”

blake craves acceptance from the people around him. and he got that acceptance from being a killer. the people who taught him how and paid him to be the killer he is. they all made him feel seen. he does not apologize for being a killer, he never will. and he would kill again, at any time. he is not stable, he is not going to get better. he wants to be a monster, and if you love him for it, that’s fine. but if you don’t. he understands and will turn his back on you.

happy monday (feat: my work day / after drinks makeup)

when the saints go marching in, i won't be there, 'cause i love my sin