bloggity blog, poetry

the madness beneath

Some days I feel my crazy slipping. My mind, the fragile beastie it is, plays tricks on me. Trying to convince me to give in. Just relax into, give in to my madness that lurks beneath the surface. Like sinking into a warm bath. That is when I am forced to grab a stick and… Continue reading the madness beneath

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bloggity blog

I woke up with songs dripping from my fingertips

In keeping with today's horror theme, I will share with you one of my guilty pleasures... weird horror songs... I think they will mostly be Nightcore. But I might add something else. I dunno. It is all a fucking mystery. If you have any horror songs you like, feel free to drop a link in… Continue reading I woke up with songs dripping from my fingertips

bloggity blog, writing

pretty little horrors

I want you to know something. I need you to know something... My feelings towards you are so strong. I want you to know that I think about you... I think about doing things to you... to your body... Bad things... Naughty things... Sometimes... I think about killing you... murdering you... taking the life from… Continue reading pretty little horrors

bloggity blog, poetry

Just call me a serial killer

Removing your skin like clothes, gently Tearing away Tearing apart your blood is my wine and I drink deeply Sinking my teeth into your still warm flesh Don't you worry I will have my fill of you You filling me The way to a man's heart is straight through his rib cage I have no… Continue reading Just call me a serial killer

bloggity blog, writing

Channing Tatum is not you

I wish I could stop thinking about Channing Tatum I wish I could stop thinking about his strong arms around my body I wish I could stop thinking about Jared Leto I wish I could stop imagining him Behind me in bed Next to me as I write, hand on my knee I wish I… Continue reading Channing Tatum is not you

bloggity blog, writing

The danger of undeserved power

The books I've read have always explained blood as smelling "coppery" or "metallic." They're not wrong, but they're not right either. Yes. I could detect that old-penny tang in the air, but there were other things too. They never mention the rot of it. The butcher shop meatiness. The piss and shit part that will undoubtedly be there. Because if there is so much blood you can smell it, then someone is either dead or about to be. A bandaid would no longer help them. Blood doesn't just smell like loose change. I should know. I was covered in it.