Black: I would date you.
Green: I think you’re cute.
Blue: You are my tumblr crush.
Grey: I wish we still talked
Purple: I really love your blog.
Teal: We have a lot in common.
Yellow: FUCK ME, LET’S FUCK.
Orange: I don’t like your blog.
Brown: I don’t like you.
Pink: I think you are unattractive.
Red: I hate you with a burning passion.
White: Marry me.
cocky men are when they’re
ready for the bottom of the
sunshine settles the
shadows into ghastly shapes,
the kids are
scared to sleep.
sunday morning was a killer.
the dirt built up
fingernails of the
gravedigger and he
fucked his wife like that
so he could
pretend he was still in the
if only i could silence the
maybe existence wouldn’t
feel so strange
"talk about" rather than "ask me"
- 1: Talk about the first time you watched your favorite movie.
- 2: Talk about your first kiss.
- 3: Talk about the person you've had the most intense romantic feelings for.
- 4: Talk about the thing you regret most so far.
- 5: Talk about the best birthday you've had.
- 6: Talk about the worst birthday you've had.
- 7: Talk about your biggest insecurity.
- 8: Talk about the thing you are most proud of.
- 9: Talk about little things on your body that you like the most.
- 10: Talk about the biggest fight you've ever had.
- 11: Talk about the best dream you've ever had.
- 12: Talk about the worst dream you've ever had.
- 13: Talk about the first time you had sex/how you imagine your first time.
- 14: Talk about a vacation.
- 15: Talk about the time you were most content in life.
- 16: Talk about the best party you've ever been to.
- 17: Talk about someone you want to be friends with.
- 18: Talk about something that happened in elementary school.
- 19: Talk about something that happened in middle school.
- 20: Talk about something that happened in high school.
- 21: Talk about a time you had to turn someone down.
- 22: Talk about your worst fear.
- 23: Talk about a time someone turned you down.
- 24: Talk about something someone told you that meant a lot.
- 25: Talk about an ex-best friend.
- 26: Talk about things you do when you're sick.
- 27: Talk about your favorite part of someone else's body.
- 28: Talk about your fetishes.
- 29: Talk about what turns you on.
- 30: Talk about what turns you off.
- 31: Talk about what you think death is like.
- 32: Talk about a place you remember from your childhood.
- 33: Talk about what you do when you are sad.
- 34: Talk about the worst physical pain you've endured.
- 35: Talk about things you wish you could stop doing.
- 36: Talk about your guilty pleasures.
- 37: Talk about someone you thought you were in love with.
- 38: Talk about songs that remind you of certain people.
- 39: Talk about things you wish you'd known earlier.
- 40: Talk about the end of something in your life.
the girl the pop-punk kids write songs about.
they cry into their flannel shirts.
i feel nothing for them. i do not whine to other human beings;
i only whine to my bedroom walls.
heartbreak kills. but it doesn’t kill enough to
fill a discography.
teenage matt writing poems
i vomit butterflies into the moist air; they were catterpillars.
in my stomach, their cocoons are breaking down.
a hubcap rolls down the cracked street, i watch it go and
cut through the horizon like a tiny blade
across the face of a man shaving in the sunlight.
misty rise the northern lights can be seen from the tenement roof - with that smell of salt water collecting in the air like light dull butterflies lacking the will to be beautiful - 9:30pm Sunday turns to Monday someday and a cigarette I hid underneath the bookshelf for a day I forget that I smoke.
being in love is stepping in a bear trap when you’re lonely on a walk through the pathways you should’ve taken - a shoebox full of love letters in the back room of my favorite bar collected by the beautiful bartender who doesn’t enjoy words written by strangers filling her insides like black ink in the living pen - she goes home after closing up and writes poetry about sleeping in airports and greyhound stations because there’s just not enough substance clinging to the bricks in this city - those people are from all over with their own tired eyes looking down at phone contacts they should’ve deleted a long time ago - it’s hard to delete a past you loved and hated.
SCREAM! she said, drunk and smiling in the parking lot of trivia night at the Mattapoisett in - she howled at the moon and i stood with my hands in my pockets wishing i wore more than one pair of socks - i have holes in my Halloween soul - television horror movies with violence turned into paper mache - i don’t think she minded but i spit into the dirt - we drove home toward the north star.
after it all the dust will settle and we will see ourselves without our masks - death has been a friend of mine we play poker from time to time - i speak to the birds on the telephone wires about lottery numbers and existentialism - outside the leaves are changing to fire-colors but i don’t feel like the world is getting any warmer - soon my friends will go south for the winter or knock on my door with questions on how to be real - my dreams have died in their sleep - and i am okay with the fact that the darkness is prominent when i bed down for the night alone, with the girl who screamed in the parking lot when she was happy to be alive - i wonder if any of our younger selves would be okay with who we are now - i doubt it.
Genuinly curious about how many followers they lost from that one post lolol
all of them