casual blasphemy, over-dramatic, copycatter, addicted to rhyming and beatings and flick knives and worse (the last cigarette in the pack, which upon lighting is believed to grant the smoker one wish)
a question to the world, asking herself every day
I am a throwaway carcrash of conflicting ideas and perfectly normal impulses, I am weak and terrible and weak (but not red), I am backstage and a spotlight stealer, I cannot sing and I cannot dance but I can act, a little, a lot, I was plugged into the wall and all my lights are burned out but my joints are oiled and slick and my whiplash reactions are as fast as ever: I am addicted to graphs, I bite the paint off my nails and the cheeks out of my mouth, I am scarred and bent but not broken (barring the times I am), I am jealous and selfless and I am a hurricane that does not stop or breathe or dodge, I am spinning hard and fast on my heels and writing my own lines for these scenes, I am surprisingly easy to get along with if you have a high tolerance for an ego bigger than all the clouds and occasional
of writers block
[insert better words for this later]
The devil gave me a little finger that clicks like a ticket machine and teeth that grew all crooked out of my mouth and ready to smash into yours, the devil gave me thick boots and gentle curls and bones that smash like china, the devil gave me every last inch of air inside of me and a crooked smirk and the ability to tear your bones right out of their sockets if you think you can take me down.
And then this big ol' world gave me scars on my knuckles and words enough to fill the sky, and really, that just made me so much more unbearable. Only dead fish go with the flow but I am the fucking river, buddy, and I go wherever I like and I pull down anyone I feel like keeping around, and I'm only ever going to get bigger and deeper and darker and more dangerous. I'm going to eat your ships down like I'm swallowing salt crumbs from my fingertips, I'm all ribs and fangs and I own beachfront property in hell.
I still do cartwheels.
I don't know how to stop myself.
I've got rock and roll under my fingernails, darling.
.Check out my Daily Deviations:
snowbones ~ [link] Daily Literature Deviations:
snowbones ~ [link]
celtic knots on my finger tops ~ [link]
the year that never happened ~ [link]
something big ~ [link]
fishing for hearts with lace and not netting: [link]Tumblr: