smol sinful sinnamon bun

WOW

florence welch and ethel cain sound like two bingo nemeses at the nursing home

anyone else just feel like a caterpillar like a blind soft stunted thing in a cage of fingers just a damp spiky perpetually unfinished thing. the undeniable ugliness and yet pale green thorny charm of it. the goo perhaps. the rippling movement. the hunger. anyone else a prologue trapped in a pale green body.

Checked the Reddit post for an update. It was brief: she dumped him.

how about you co quette a job

Imagine a weird truck that just says Aslpundh on the side of it

ok. now what

go in there

And risk getting asplundhed? No thanks

what the fuck is this real

i could set this to post every five minutes for the rest of the week if i wanted to give you an idea of how ive been living