𝖈𝖊𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖈. retweeted
12:49pm. SEPTEMBER!!!!!!!!! says the calendar. his hands shake too much when he tries to turn the page. there's a bad picture there. stomach hurts even looking at it. knowing. knowing it's there. it's there under the skin of last month. the bad picture. bad picture. bad picture.
𝖈𝖊𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖈. retweeted
The club is a witchcraft ritual, people in the dark dancing around a circle to music usually on a substance barely coherent chanting words. Men tricking women with the presentation of having money/resources, women tricking men with looks that change when the lights come on both casting spells on the other
𝖈𝖊𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖈. retweeted
.·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·.。*゚+
youtu.be/G3gzz2BU6d0
CORRECTLY about CORRECT things. might've fucked up when the MICE came up but it's fine. yeah. alright.
he stares at the livestock instead, swallowing.
"unless. I mean. if you mean magic it's like. I don't know. I guess. it's like.. it's a-lot. not this shit though. cows."
oh christ. dreaded question, but hes been practicing the answer.
"um. I don't know. I like, uh. bugs. my little pony-- gen. four. candy. I like uh... pigeons. mice. that kinda stuff."
anxious clawing at the back of his neck; pressure of needing to feel RELATABLE, and talk
walmart egg roll grease smeared on your picture. spiritual chopping block. face hovers inches from slimy symbols of spit n blood.
o-kay.
[ his only business in the club is the leftovers. used condoms and broken heels in the dumpster outside. he looks her over with eyebrows knit together, all fear no lust. ]
thanks. yeah. I mean. thanks.
[ hesitant, he forces past an anxious swell of nausea to return the gesture BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT A NORMAL MAN would do and he is a NORMAL MAN today.
and fallen too, in a way. much shorter distance. never quite made it to any sliver of 'paradise' even if he was on his way. ] --








