Bl00dyl0ver

Most peope don’t know or understand the worst of blood.

Is not how runny and dirty it actually is in real life, nor how warm and disgusting it feels, or how it smells of iron and “biology”.

Or how hard it is to actually wash off your face, hands, clothes, shoes and hair. And it is nearly impossible to get off your tangled hair

The worst of all, is how painful it feels against your skin once it dries. It dries so increíble fast, you don’t have time to wash it off.

How it crumbles in crusty chunks and flakes off. How the movement of your skin cracks it, creating a very uncomfortable pain as if you had a mud mask dry too hard.

I can assure you it is a special kind of pain and torture to have dry blood all over your neck and back and arms and face.

Yet it is so beautiful when wet.

The bliss of paradise.

The biggest feeling when writing is always shame.

Wanting to write but no words come out. So many emotions and feelings to express, but no coherent sentences.

- laying here stupidly with my brain.

Anne Sexton, from a letter featured in Anne Sexton; A Self-Portrait In Letters

are we gonna kiss covered in blood? are we gonna kiss with mouthfuls of blood? will u drink my blood?

Darkness always consumed me. I loved it, and it loved me back.

We have been friends all our lives, and we dance and sleep together every night. It comforts me from the terrible brightness, and hugs me after my scariest nightmares.

I know we will continue to grow old together. And when the day comes I leave this place, I will fall back into it’s arms like the lost lovers we’ve always been.

My life had no meaning without it.

Words bring thoughts that seem to connect, lack of security means second guessing thoughts. Why are these words shared, is it possible that thoughts are facts?

Uncertainly, being in a state of being uncertain.

Uncertain, not able to be relied on; not know or definite.

They feed on pain, but don’t exist most times.

I know you won’t understand this, and that is the point.

Work-drunk