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The poets brace themselves for imminent, overeducated poverty.
“Whom you call Cuntscapades.”
She’s looking at me like I’m her favorite special-needs child.
probably how my friends feel about me
They look at me like they know I have a burning slutty secret I am willfully withholding. Like I’m denying them entry into my whorish vagina and it’s a real problem.
“What do you think, Samantha?” Fosco asks me. That it’s a piece of pretentious shit. That it says nothing, gives nothing. That I don’t understand it, that probably no one does and no one ever will. That not being understood is a privilege I can’t afford. That I can’t believe this woman got paid to come here. That I think she should apologize to trees. Spend a whole day on her knees in the forest, looking up at the trembling aspens and oaks and whatever other trees paper is made of with tears in her languid eyes and say, I’m fucking sorry. I’m sorry that I think I’m so goddamned interesting
...more
Me @ grady hendrix
glam rock gargoyle.
fnaf security breach okkkkk
Hugo, Beowulf, Blake, Lars,
Yikes
“I thought I heard screams.” “That was me,” Creepy Doll says. “Sometimes I scream.” I watch her sloppily pour more punch into my glass, then into hers. “It’s sort of a disorder.”
This is so funny
“Samantha, I found your treelike height erotic and I enjoyed your bleak dress sense more than I can say.
We’ve read Jane Eyre too, you cunt,
Saw. I recall once more the wobbly blade with the winking teeth.
Just watch the movies
“After this we should go to Pinkberry,” she says to the door. Victoria and Eleanor nod slowly. I’m nodding too. Oh yes. Pinkberry, lovely.
A hug to take away all of our owies.
She turned up the cherubic harp music. Each song is twenty minutes long and meanders like a bitchy cat.
Bunny, we know you sometimes get depressed that your sister is this incredible neurologist in training or whatever and that you have basically lived in her shadow for twenty years reading and seething.
“Fuck hands,” says our crudest, truthiest Bunny. “I want the cock.”
Oh my god, how much does Bunny love Pinkberry? She loves it so much she loves it so much she loves it so fucking much oh my god.
You can tell oh you can tell her sky was a heavy one. Always. She wanted it that way. Yes. Sought that out. Some people do.
starts to rain. Hard. Because that’s the kind of weather that follows this kind of girl. She’s so slutty and dark she makes the clouds slutty and dark too. Pregnant with this dirty rain that starts to fall hard on both of us.
But what sort of date is it, really, Bunny? I thought. I mean, if you never even touch hand flesh, let alone fuck? Isn’t that more of a Disney ride than a date?
I’m leaving you here not because I’m a fucking cunt but because I’m being socially mindful of your chat with the freak boy.
My in-box floods, as it did last summer, with alarming crime-alert messages from campus security. Shooting in the early evening. Sodomy in the morning. Decapitation at 3:30 in the afternoon. I wonder when is a nonbeheading time to go out and buy ginger ale.
Laughter is a rabbit hole and I’m falling, falling like Alice.
“Jonah, I’m so sorry.” “For what? It’s nice to hang out with you again.” He smiles.
WAHHHHH
“You’ll still be here?” I ask. “When I come back?” She smiles. “Of course I’ll still be here. Where would I go?”
Oh no
“Oh, we were all ‘intrigued’ at first. Maybe even dazzled. Smitten by a certain grittiness, a certain dark charm.” “Sure, all of that,” Bunny Lion agrees. “But now?” He shrugs his misshapen shoulders. “Ew. Is what I think.” He looks at Bunny Fosco, who nods gravely.
“Going back and forth between us and your companion or whatever like a little fucking waffler.” “Talk about betrayal.”
She gives me the full hate bouquet of her smile. Every fuck you flower.
She knows full well that I’m gripping an ax in my coat. She’s not stupid, she fucking invented this game, remember?
“Samantha! Hey!” Jonah is coming toward me in a cap and gown, waving.
YESSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSS
But hey, I took some pictures of you walking up to the podium earlier.” “You did?” “Yeah, of course I did. You’re my friend. Hey, what’s wrong?”
“You could come with me,” I say to Jonah. “If you want.” I lower my gaze to the mud. “Sure, Samantha,” says the mud, “I’d love to.”
MY BABIESSS
