yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


i get sick like a dog, like a comic from a porno magazine. i have dreams about the boys i love all wrapped in metal clothing, rusting and creaking in my arms, held like sinking ships waiting to come to rest at the bottom.

i dont have a problem with slitting your wrists and pouring battery acid in them, or doing your laundry while you watch family fued. you are scared of me, i am scared of me, of burning through you like cigarette ashes on the cloth interior.

d-land