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Ohmylord, I almost came during the piercing process, I swear. At first, the clamp hurt. Then the needle hurt; the pain spread to my whole torso and my eyes went white and I was shaking, sweating and my heart was racing. Then it was done and I looked down at a few droplets of blood sliding down my stomach. That was it, times two of course.

The 2mm-needle looked like a death sentence (Motherfucking huge to think of sticking through you, I'll tell you that.), but once I got over that and went with it, it was amazing. Painful, pushing my boundaries and bloody, yeah, but the sheer adrenaline rush was orgasmic.

They're beautiful.

inside my heart

Wow. Too fucking much, just too much for one night, I swear to God.
My parents confronted me in a positive way about everything that's been going on with me and I just finished crying for 2 hours. I hope I'm done. I'm still in shock. I'm in a state of mind like a painful orgasm; you don't know whether to focus on the intense release or the feeling of nagging pain.

But, that's all for now: Esthero - I Drive Alone.

Happy thoughts.

Good evening-g-g.

Life is being made very hard by school; I'm socially dead. I had bad cider today, just awful, and I'd love to sleep right now but my feet are cold so I can't and just, fuck -- fuck. I don't even know what to say anymore.

I like someone. Or not like, exactly, it's more like I'm intrigued by someone and I want to get to know them but uwyagshgfvjwf, I'm seriously the person with the smallest balls in the world and I'd never get the guts to talk to her at all, ever, about anything. I'd love to say I will, and I do want to. Goddammit, do I want to.

Resolution for the next undetermined amount of time: get the girl.

Over and out.

superheroes

And the way I saw you, saw your skin and the way you moved.

Silky, smooth, soft, susceptible.

This atrocity we created in my dwelling, white shirts like flags on bedposts and trousers on the floor like masks we shed to see your insides; our goal and destination.

Your bones jutted out like the corners of that wooden chest in our living room, and I could tell you hadn’t been eating. You smiled, I couldn’t believe it, like you were proud.

You've always scared me, you’re like a spectre resonating from one dimension of my senses to the other, a beautiful wanton creature.

Dear. Lord.

Thank you and godspeed to the asshole that stole my tote bag, effectively getting rid of half my books from my use and my P.E. clothes. You must be either mind-numbingly stupid or just a sadist. Honestly, return it. Please and thank you, again.

Bastard.

Top o' the mornin', laddies.

I've decided to merge into my alter-ego, Sergei the Russian exotic dancer. Or more to the point, recent events, like my friend juggling wearing the Sergei furry hat, lead me to think of him more. It's cold as fuck here, and I'm just trying to go to school when I should because honestly, I couldn't be bothered.

Good night, ladies and gentlemen.

afterglow

Momentary lapse into this, I swear I didn’t mean to.
As your hand slid out of mine, omnipotence clicked its stopwatch to a painful start, click.
Looking forward to this, we are, as a slaughterer waits for Mondays to skin something alive.
It’s days from hell, days when all you’d love to do is stop and scream, days when nothing matters but the blunt fingernails pressing curves into your back, or was it a dream?

But every morning, the faint red breaths of texture marring your skin strike you like Ali with the truth. But occasional occurrence makes it all okay, right?

Baby, does it make you sense the existence of and writhe due to a scent perhaps similar to matches or tar, how you reek of deception?
You’re transparent as a bulimic’s skin, and your defenses fall apart like paper succumbing to a flame. Click.