Heres some shoes I love.
and heres a snotty ass rant
cc parties with people i don't care about are like seas of floating dead ghosties like the one near mordor in Lord of the Rings. creepy inanimate flotation. sallow. boozy.hard to engage in, somewhat threatening but mostly just boring.
its always the same people and its always the same waka waka waka chit chat waka.
blah blah blah. thats all i hear.
for once, i have no desire to entertain.
and i know that sounds funny, or narcissistic, or something, but for me, ITS A RELIEF. because my entertainment compulsion is one EXHAUSTING defense mechanism.
also: so fucking sick of dancing to dubstep womp dirrrty glitch witch beat stuff i could CRY. unless its live. OTHERWISE, fuck off with this party killing music. its good live. its good driving. its good studying sometimes its not good not live at a party.
there. i said it.
reibroham.
Galactic Cannibalism
I heard what was said of the universe, heard it and heard it of several thousand years; it is middling well as far as it goes -- but is that all? –Walt Whitman
Sometimes, one
galaxy swallows another,
star by star,
creating collisions from dust.
Pieces of sky rusted
to explosive pixie thimbles
and rose gold
magically combust.
Like hair ringlets
of electric-tar,
twines of stars
curl into one another.
These explosions shed
violent particles which
we cannot see
because their hues
shred finer than
rainbow.
Invisible tendrils of excited electrons
swathe acres of grass
and human graves-
And none of this
Can be seen.
The eye is too small.
Too small for noticing
the elegant curve
that glances between two beings
in a moment-
Such as
the aura of warmth
that a hand has
as it does not touch another-
but nearly, one finger caresses
the air above.
Too small for noticing
Baby hairs as they spine-
Remembering secrets
Which lips divulged,
Sweating crimson to coral.
And yet,
Everyday,
Human galaxies pull into one another,
Entangling stars
With an energy that is too colossal to be seen.
p.p.s.
I HATE GIRLS WHO SPEAK BABY TALK. shut the fuck up. not taking yourself seriously is one thing. prefacing your opinions with...."I feel like" and "maybe" and "like" is one thing...
baby talk is equivalent to impotence of identity. YES. a bonerless identity. nonperforming.
YES. thats exactly what I mean.
reil-ed up brohims again.
she hates her outfit. she's changing as i type this.
I call these "looks" Christmas gets punk'd
ok we're happy now. hippie skeleton punks pc CC xxxmas "ice age".
LOVE YOU LAURA. love you all!!
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