Divine Poetry

A May wind whispers sweetly through virginal leaves, but I only hear our genitals, like a rubber mallet obliterating a bowl of gelatin.

The map was made. All entry and exit points for semen. She was hoping that if she plugged her ears and blew against the inflowing tide that she might be able to create a painful backflow lungward and out of her sinuses, quite possible creating a cascade of chemicals through her already weakened central nervous system which would give her heart palpitations.

She did a line of coke which abated her anxiety, but increased her nausea.

This was going to be the most intense blowjob she’d ever given- and she frankly hoped it would kill her.

Mouth open, eyes shut, this is how we choke on cock.

The years of constant touring,

the parties,

the girls,

the guys.

They’d all taken their toll on sweet China. Her fingers slipped on every third note now.

Her vision went fuzzy.

Could this be the last show? The last shot of heroin?

Could this be the last hotel suite destroyed?

Wait, she thought, just wait for the speed to kick in.

Her hair felt like it was standing on end and her skin began to crawl pleasantly.

FUCK YEAH. LET’S DO THIS SHIT.

(Source: internethistory)

internethistory:

whoa ballin party pary dog big turn out tonight we’re knee deep in hotties good idea gettin the keg dawg we’re gonna make this place hop tonight hey while you’re over there get me a beer party dog

internethistory:

their marriage continued, the emotional distance between them grew wider.  they saw each other less and less, and when they did chance to dine together on this night, it was a quick meal of spaghetti and iced tea, eaten quickly, and then the two went about their separate business.

what was the point of the candles, muriel wondered.  this could hardly be called a relationship anymore, she thought as she cleaned the table.  this is an arrangement.

“This hurting in my bones isn’t easy to explain, but I guess that dying feels different every time, so I don’t pay it any mind.”

“Fuck your retarded platitudes. Fuck your tattoo. Fuck Frederick Douglass. And mostly FUCK YOU.”

How would that make for a pithy and meaningful tattoo?

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(Source: snow-cone)