I wish I was beautiful in a meaningful way. In a way that mattered to me. I get called all sorts of wonderful names, none of them resonate. Everything feels like a bit of a lie and I am afraid by the time it starts to ring true, the words will no longer apply.

I was sitting outside a bar with a boy one night, he was smoking and we were watching traffic, and I said, “At what point does wandering around stops being this cool thing I do and becomes inadequacy to lead a normal, grounded life? Like, where is that line?”

He said, “I can so relate to you right now,” and we kept watching traffic. We were two young people with money and no home. 

Sometimes I walk alone late at night, thinking, ha, here I am, someone do something dangerous. I know it’s very stupid. Or I will stand on the balcony and look down and wonder if 15 stories will kill me or just shatter my bones. 

Other times I consider growing weed in my room, or making muffins, or buying a pole to put in the living room. Still other times I spend money on things I think I need, but mainly on lotion. I don’t need anything. These are all wants. Stupid, aimless wants of a stupid, aimless person.

All I’m Really Asking For

If I’m like this now
What a horror I’ll be
In a little while
I just want to say you’re mine
I want to own something
I’m not strong enough
To be satisfied with just
Appreciation
All I’m thinking is
We could get married
We could get so carried
Away

But instead I’m
Spreading menthol smoke
Like a timid dragon
At 1500 feet
Thinking about you
And him
And the other one
Someone convince me
Before I lose them all
Let your hands do
All the talking

Fucking

If you want to be in my life, fucking prove it. Fucking call me and ask me how my fucking day was. Fucking text me how you want my lips. Fucking get really mad when the plans we made can’t happen, make it look like you fucking care. If you want to be my fucking lover, you have to fucking love me harder. 

And he loved me hard. As hard as he could. Now I give him half a day, a Birthday cake that says “Spank me, I’m sorry,” nothing but lingerie under my red coat, and for a few hours I’m his fucking fantasy. Pound cake, cake, cake, cake, lick the icing off the cake.

He wants to be in my life, but he’s like a still shot, there is no future here for us, there is no future for us anywhere, but babyboy, I still fucking want you. 

flyartproductions
flyartproductions:

Epicurean life, Aristotelian life, did i not mention i was about to lose my mind?
The School of Athens, Raphael (1509-1510) / All of the Lights, Kanye West feat. Rihanna and Kid Cudi with vocals by Fergie, Charlie Wilson, John Legend, Tony Williams, Alicia Keys, La Roux, The Dream, Ryan Leslie, Alvin Fields and Ken Lewis.

This blog is the best

flyartproductions:

Epicurean life, Aristotelian life, did i not mention i was about to lose my mind?

The School of Athens, Raphael (1509-1510) / All of the Lights, Kanye West feat. Rihanna and Kid Cudi with vocals by Fergie, Charlie Wilson, John Legend, Tony Williams, Alicia Keys, La Roux, The Dream, Ryan Leslie, Alvin Fields and Ken Lewis.

This blog is the best

Jameson on ice, Jameson on ice, hand me that blunt, I taste you when I hit it, we exhale out childhood fantasies and then I cut you off, you want this, bat of an eyelash, goosebumps on my skin when you look at me, take your time, I can sip this energy all night, don’t talk unless you’re telling me you want this, wait until you feel it, you’ll find God or something very close, let me go down on you all night, pull the straps and ribbons with your teeth, I don’t mind a little friction, I’m yours* tonight, I left them all behind, it’s just me and desert, have me for dessert, you probably deserve it, everyone deserves something, I’ll bring my body if you bring a blank slate, if you bring forgetness, let alone forgiveness, I want all of you to myself, I’m tired of waiting for no one, tell me you love me, or this pussy, what’s the difference, take me down another level, seven circles of hell turns into 16, I’m not a gambler but I can bet we can hit the jackpot, those are one-time deals too, so fuck me like a trophy, I want to feel you between my hips, take up all the empty space.

Third

God knows
You never meant to hurt me

Boys will be boys
“I’m a boy”

You’d say
And run your hands
Along my thighs

"I want to fuck you"
You’d say
And put it in third
We speed cutting corners

God knows you don’t
Know better
You have a son

You’d say
“Don’t hate me”
“I’m a dad”

And I’m a baby
And you promised we’d be lovers
But one of us has lied.

I woke up with this song playing in my head.

"Don’t take this personal, but you ain’t shit, and you weren’t special til I made you so."

I dreamt the photographer had a blog and I was reading glimpses of it, and there were two entries about a Russian, who was me. In the second post, “Russian 2,” the photographer wrote that the Russian is getting more mature. I didn’t have a chance to read entry number 1, but it was an interesting dream. I woke up with a sense of pride at being more mature and “I don’t need you, I don’t need you, but I want you” playing softly in the background of my thoughts. 

There were also story lines of Russians, guns and men and conspiracies and winter.