for abigail hobbs /// listen
i. beverly marsh’s father took her skull, put it on the mantel. hung her photo on the wall and kissed it, so gentle. ii. mama, there’s wolves in the house, mama, they won’t let me out. they bury their paws in the stone, make for my heart as their home. iii. she says “don’t help him” but i hear his blood in me. the blood says “get some pliers; there are bugs in your teeth.” iv. be it ox or be it ram? please the god of abraham. every day a dyin’ day. v. gravediggress, dig me a hole i can bury all of my love and all of my holy. vi. maybe she got what she came for, lying naked on the pine floor. vii. there’s knives in the kitchen; they’re stuck in the walls, go pull them down. there’s cracks in the mirrors; your secrets are spilling from your mouth, there’s no going back from this point now. viii. perfume is sick, gunpowder sings. you’re beautiful, like silver apples, like carrion.
"She’s really pretty for a black girl"
“He’s really cool for a gay guy”
“She’s doing really well for a woman”
long-distance friendships are terrible because you can’t meet up with them whenever you want and hang out on any given day which is why when i’m president i’m relocating the entire human population into a 10,000,000 story skyscraper that also acts as a bridge from earth to the moon which comes with the added benefit of swinging the moon around like a fucking mace, god damn it’s gonna look so cool. what was i talking about