Sailor
My blogs
Blogs I follow
| Gender | Female |
|---|---|
| Industry | Military |
| Occupation | Post-Apocalyptic Militia |
| Location | Rugby / London |
| Introduction | I'm living in some tin room scraping myself off the walls every weekday hearing echoes of my neighbours screaming & kicking their kids or whatever andmy head is throbbing.. some big hands are pounding me or squeezing me into a ball this week. you never know what you can adapt to or your ability to forget. stupid drugfucked mornings with a flaccid necked heaving body making noises like azoo,anything to drown out the neighbours and their fucking television. |
| Interests | half jamaican half irish |
| Favorite movies | this one had a beautiful head of dirty blonde hair but she didn't own a mirror so she never even checked. she couldn’t pin down the object of her longing just craved endlessly for some satiation chased relief & fell into the void on the other side. (this is when we’d start beating the shit out of each other to get turned on all over again) and this one had hair hacked like mange ’cos he didn't own a mirror ’cos he didn‘t care. couldn’t pin down the object of his longing just craved endlessly for some satiation chased relief butnever caught it. (andthis is when we’d shoot some dilaudidto pass the time.) we’re at my mother’s house and it’s freakishly warm. I’m lying in a deckchair and you’re dropping your winter coat so you’re justwearing lamé like aporn star. I’m laughing madly& beckoning you then I see these huge fat caterpillars wrapped around the weeds and I point them out saying “they’re as big as fucking snakes!” mother is terrified but I tell her I can deal with it and I do; next time we check they’ve disappeared . (their looks form a sphere, they have made a World. look reflects look reflects look, legs cross around waist, the snake bites it’s own head.. when two people fuck they don’t see anyone else...) |
| Favorite music | I love you but all I know is that it’s not enough. even hands bound together twisted in sheets head to head isn‘t enough.. Can’t sleep, thinking of you even though you’re right here.. I feel kind of detached like.. I’m not sure exactly what I should be doing with this.. pulling away to get some get some perspective and yeah,it’s too perfect & I’m dreaming upa brand new fantasy already. (a dream where a boy iswalking ahead of his parents. he’s covered in cuts and bruises and crying, he’s just some mute kid but I want to keep him anyway..).. just give me drugs and a big bed and a blonde, my mind doesn’t rise much morefrom the gutter trust me the only way to go is to keep driving, speed stuffed in coke cans etc, really kitsch I know& it’s unbelievable we even got this far-that someone looked at your face &handed you the car keys anyway. how could we ever get bored now?? we just pick em up and drop em off and wave goodbye, just another photogenic orgy in the sticks at the end of the world, no harm done.. |
Create a tagline for a new line of plastic bedsheets.
twixt flesh and the threadcount, slippy slippy