Bella, reclusive wanker and keeper of rabbits.

Scandalous Nun/s lurking

Return Query Me Delicate About

WHY CAN’T THE THINGS I WRITE GET PUBLISHED IN A NICE POETRY FORMATTTTT AHHHHHHH

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When I get really down, I look at photos of girls who I wish I could be.
To have a stomach as thick as my wrist, to have plain long hair parted in the middle;
to have my ribs creep up & down every time I exhale your name.
When I think of these things, I begin to taste the starvation in my mouth,
the acid & bile on my lips. That ugly metallic aftertaste that just doesn’t go away with a toothbrush;
just like that, I feel my lungs plump up.
I stopping holding on to the insides of my cheeks with my teeth, I push my fingers into my palms
& feel the thriving muscles, & tissue beneath it.
I no longer taste that starvation.

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I procrastinate by reading books that aren’t on my school’s syllabus l o l

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billie-jean-and-her-kings:

"heart shaved head" by Billie Jean
All I want to do with my life is watch, write & critique films 
😞 #sad

Apologies for not posting the past two days….
All I want right now, is to shower, have my lover here with me, & just talk until my voice runs out.

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This situation is so fucked

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Idk which looks better
Having to go places whilst not being soner
** sober