blackout

I need a smoothie.

Colors That Never Existed

       She teeters back from the edge of The Void, zonked and boggled, barely coherent in her thought stream but virtually unharmed. Except for that sore in her mouth, the one leaking blue (blue?) blood. Was that there before? Before the endless grinding and dental exploration committed by her tongue on the eve(s) of the incident. Alone at the top of a ziggurat of self-satisfaction she strove to reach Nirvana and pulled her mind back after a schizophrenic eternity writhing in ultra-brain-orgasmic sensitivity. At once and never fully understanding the overlap of impacts made by human on human contact abrasive to her unfaltering vulnerability as the sand paper statues slowly scrape bits of her away. In Conclusion: that’s the moral of the story. God’s are temporary as they too need a hand to pull them back from the brink. The chain can’t last forever and once they realize, they topple simultaneously. “It all comes full circles in the end,” said the Paradox to The Deck of Cards, drawing the futility of the statement as soon as the impossibility of a circles end is verbalized. Carry ever-onward wayward friends; for to be stagnant is to fade into the State of Stale Unbeing. Achieve today, for time is the most valuable lie to slip away. My thoughtful wary cotton-caricatures, cut from the same cloth and rushing forward to consume, as it is all we’ve ever know. A race that does (dose) naught but to enGulf in flame, first their brother, then their goddess-green-gold mother until they leave that last note on the mirror and finally fall in. She staggers back from the edge. Punched through with a thousand holes, leaking the knowledge and good and love she’d collected from the world and hoarded away to nibble on through the winter. She’s chained back to the Earth with iron links hating each other for their similarities, a perfect reflection of the Many-Person who spawned them. Each link in the chain chiseled from the same desire to KNOW. To UNDERSTAND. How naively unattainable. She reflects: in the eternity eternity eternity spent floating in her own subconscious, she danced alone on the technicolor universe, watched historypresentfuture blend into one all-inclusive and expansive pattern, saw the fabrication of societal defenses ripped down from those around her, and almost fully lost her Atman to the omnipresentcolorexplosion revealed to her too soon. She staggers back from the edge. Next time she wants to know what it’s all about, maybe she’ll remember that life’s a big goddamn question mark and rent a movie instead.

Sexy sexy made up of plexi disasters
Pushing and pulling conservative rolling
Unlike plastic, easier to see through
Just like glass with no ring
Softer and sadder you sing
Sexy sexy do your thing
Learn to be shy and then you can sting
Plexi, plexi bend don’t shatter
Once you’re broken shape won’t matter

Jack Johnson

(via joshualapierre)

stop posting alice glass pictures, I’m too obsessed with her to not reblog….

come-eat-some-chemicals:

nicotinebastedlungs: (via howlcarnage)

Cause love that never leaves is never ever welcome back

And I’m running out of skin thick enough to hide in.

I love Kipling West.