Misfits

I dream ,
dark, venomous dreams.
I wake screaming,
most nights.
Every night.
Blood, wounds,
Jin and angels.

Bad luck versus that presumed to be good.

The air tastes different now,
I blame the fear, buzzing underneath my skin.

A part of me wants to be eaten whole.
Disappear,
never to be seen nor heard from again.

The secondary, God fearing part of me,
counts the stars,
the blessings,
my loves,
and cherished moments.
It is then that I am forced to realize,
that my very existence,
is bigger than me.
And if I am still desperate to seek
my own personal freedom,
it will have to be by my own hand.

Peter, Bjorn and lost

Crush
one, two, breath.

I look to you for supposed inspiration.

Instead, I hug my ovaries,
and pray for children, nothing like you.
Or us,
or them,
or anyone that has the capability for making me
feel terrible.

I know I shouldn’t be thinking of the

“young folks”

But it’s hard!
As I feel my hormones casting a mold over me,
and reality so happily,
willing
to set Kiwi
in a clay form
of vengeful hate.

That is why I tell the Mothership “STOP!”
I am far to battered and bitter a woman,
to be ready to grow a new life force.

Eww.
No more talk of new,
must reconnect with the old,
and then maybe, once forgiven,
will I let the new me
commiserate with the old me.

Until then,
I sleep lonely,
kissing stars and wishing I were homely.

things on muh-mind.

10. yes!



“I used to work at a Dairy Queen” Jerry Hall



Jordan Askill
Silver Horse Cuff
so.amazing.stunning.OMFG.


RIP Ari.


A.F. Vandevorst. love this look. loved the whole collection.


Versus S/S 2011 detail. really feeling the clashing prints here. Wanting to try the look on full outfit.



c’est moi. at little new(ish?) bar, Unlovable.
so deep, underground and dark, we walked by it twice.
in a trance. i was fixated by the gigantic lightbulb hanging from a massive brass chain in the ladies loo. Oh, i kinda loved the place too.

Jamie Woon – Night Air

so fucking sexy.

melancholy hill

You begin to revel in the loneliness.
Protected from the ache
of yearning for someone so desperately.
You find such pleasure in this freedom,
you are invincible.

At first you worry,
you wonder if you’ve lost feeling.
If your skin will ever prickle and itch,
with the shivers that skip across your skin with every kiss?

You lie in bed and feel nothing.
Mind empty. The glorious silence!
The tug between your legs, now a distant memory.
You try and imagine
moments,
minutes,
bitten lobes, and licked scars.
Inhale. Exhale.
His breath on your back,
arched
then cracked.

Nothing.
You move from worry to relief.
Exhausted.
No longer pulled under,
suffocated with personal blame.
‘Why am I alone?’ ‘What have I done?’
Yearning to be loved, needed, taken care of.

To be a kept woman.

This no longer eats at you as it once did.
You float through the world now.
Day, dusk,
twilight and dawn.

‘I am no longer foolish!’ You cry.
You curl up, fetal.
Triumphant, with your newfound peace.
In isolation, a castle in which you retreat.