æ

ə

можно не рисовать ещё год

Nicole

I made a doll
of sticks and straw
her name's Nicole
her name's Nicole

I like Nicole
she's such a coy
Nicole's my toy
Nicole's my toy

I'm mad at him,
so I lash out on her
she can't say no
she can't say no

Nicole's my friend
her neck is in my hand
Nicole's a wreck
her neck, my hand.

I squeeze it tight
I know that's right
dolls can't feel pain
she'll be okay.

Nicole's a wreck
of sticks and straw
her flaws her fault
her flaws her fault

Nicole's a wreck
of sticks and straw
she gets what deserves
I can't be wrong

эти глаза стоили мне нервных клеток

короче обратного пути нет

А

мигрени повышают шанс развития деменции, теперь мне некомфортно в своей коже

столько тупых и странных идей того, что можно было бы сделать и я их забуду через час, потому что не знаю как это записать, чтобы не забыть, что это все значит

кстати мигрени повышают шанс развития деменции

у меня болит голова

ножницы садовые Bradas KT-V1111

с новым гадом ребята, с меня на сегодня достаточно

⠀⠀"Light me a cigarette," her tired voice cut through the hum of the street outside of the window. That hum was squeezing our brainpans from dawn 'till dusk, no, I'd even said night, from 7 am to 10 pm. It was a schedule, the city was a living machine, buzzing through the walls of our merely rotten shelter. The street was alive, this distinguished it from us in the most prominent way.
⠀⠀That tired mumble of hers woke me up from my zoning out session. With a deep sigh I left my warm bed, the sheets were crumpled but none of us cared, this dorm room was the definition of stench and death anyway. On the way to her desk my hand grabbed the pack of cigarettes and matches from my bedside table. "Lucky strike" the only lucky thing in this dump. I sat on the table beside her notebook, her head was bowed, deeply in thought. My fingers deftly pulled out one cigarette, lips held it gently while I fumbled with a match. Crackle of fire, I took a puff and let the smoke out of my nostrils. She rised her head, eyes dull, screaming of fatigue. The cigarette was moved to her dry, cracked and bitten lips, I held it for her to take it, but instead she just took a puff, leaving that cancer stick between my fingers.
⠀⠀She wanted me to hold it for her... Wanted to smoke from my hands! Something that meaningless, something so futile seemed incredibly intimate.
⠀⠀I froze, didn't even dare to move now. My free hand gripped the edge of the tabletop I was sitting on, the other one was still holding the cigarette for her. She took another drag, this one was deep and long. Her lips grazed the skin of my fingers, I felt her breath on my hand. She looked like a fragile doll, the art, the masterpiece of nature, even if with those dark circles under her weary eyes and bloody cracks on parched lips (now I wondered, involuntarily imagined them pressed to mine, not just grazing my tremorous limbs), she was still gorgeous in my eyes.
⠀⠀As she was occasionally taking puffs while writing something in her notebook, I caught myself wrapped up one thought. I want to do that, hold that damn cigarette for her while she's busy working, 'till we both grow old and grey.
⠀⠀My glance slowly moved to the window. The lights were dim, but it was enough to turn the window into a mirror, and in that mirror my eyes caught our frames, mine and hers. She was leaned forward, bent over her notebook, sometimes leaned over to the cigarette in between my fingers to take a puff. Two fragile silhouettes, mine and hers. That picture provoked my hazy mind to develop thousands of scenarios, rushing and crushing every coherent thought in my head to fill it with one, stinging feeling.
⠀⠀The feeling was alien, yet familiar to me at once. Longing and small hint of possessiveness towards her, that fragile and faint her. I bit my tongue, bit it hard enough, wincing subtly. She took a puff. Smoke was escaping her lips and curling around my trembling hand. I cursed myself for every thought and every picture of us that seemed inappropriate. If I could I'd even bit my tongue to draw some blood for that.

этот день был всецело отдан гниению

всем привет я не люблю рисовать пони всем привет очень хочется сейчас разбить голову об стену, но я пока не решила какую выбрать, выбор правда очень сложный

вчера я была уверена, что я гнию заживо, но вроде бы нет, но я все ещё немного в это верю

если я сгнию, пожалуйста, периодически приходите с освежителем воздуха, я стесняюсь