HELL WIZARD

I use my idiot power to prohibit my mind from comprehending this, sparing me the pain of gnosis

wear black t shirts, listen to Radiohead

I’m non-binary now but apology accepted

I could lay mournfully by a tree, pierced by arrows. I’d be so good at it

quilled

wounded by arrows

moss grows inside my head

in the shadow, forming life

songs from the severed head

cozy king beppe

heart in pain. scared

so was Christ in his day

upside down. the shelf only contaminates if you don’t clean it. literally just gotta wipe it like once a month

what a heroic act. this man drew steel, then blood

incredibly pretty AND very cool. Hell of a combo

this amount of wear is at least superlatively fitting given the specific novel

creature and creation

“The crow looks at it there in the sand, my sadness or my hope.”

“Everything moves in the same way. One bird. One thousand. The ocean. The moon. The sky comes all the way down to the water. I am somewhere below.”

It is the whole empty world and I am in it and it is in me.”— @annedemarcken.com , IT LASTS FOREVER AND THEN IT’S OVER

“I realize now that when I was plying these silent movies of life after our life, you were still there. You were sitting with me, the two of us alone in the theater, still together. This sadness is not an empty church and not an empty house.

I love cats

“Get the Bullet” is POWER TO BELIEVE core and fuck yes brother FUCK yes

near the end and cursory thoughts: this splits the difference between prog and indie/alternative rock so fucking well. I’m not sure if I like it more than If/When yet but the fact that it’s a question mark for me is already a great sign

(up on my cross, I could see everything. I watched it all whether I could smile or not. I’d flex my wrist to feel the nails and track you with my eyes.)

I pick myself up, or something approximating it. there are droplets of blood on the ground, which I briefly mistake for sky. there is snow everywhere, drinking up my arms, bathed in the syrup spilling from my brain. I stand unsteady and stumble into the trees. that metropolis of wood.

it is night when the nail fails. I fall from my cross with a calamitous thump and the sharp crack of the splitting wood. pale moonlight pours from my head.

YES YES YES YES

The age of the titty is never over

I’ve been possessing all women