sadist-oldman

I swore coffee all over the wallpaper. she started screaming about how writing shit was letting the world see what your guts look like flapping wet and messy where they spill purpleblack over the pavement and I hoped it was true, since I am only the colour of every bloated hernial sac rupturing through tangled intestinal miles, flopping about, foetal tonguing around massive vats of ugly viscera.  said she couldn't understand how I could just talk indelicate about life: losing kids at sixteen and falling red and helpless into supermassive black holes full of transcendental bullshit like lucid dreams and sleep paralysis, trance channelling E