fastwind

i have spent years developing an interchangeable, fluid skin which both rips and thickens in odd layers at its own unpredictable discretion.

as i grow up, responsibility quietly compromises all of my dreams and sprinkles pessimism everywhere.

i boringly observe everything around me and only find any truth in nature.
the longer i spend around people my own age, the more i like my parents.

on some old cassette players, when you hit fast forward and rewind at the same time, they would become stuck and made a horrible repetetive clicking noise until you hit down harder on one button to put the other out of its misery.

i love useless self indulgent metaphors, they behave like laxatives.

cruises for bruises

sooner or later, someone is bound to slip up.

enlightenment as mass deception

just put everything into real words really, over and over again.

lots of beautiful words for hideous things.

the only true thing in this world is nature.

she shouted

learn something from me.

squeak

how does anyone forget that they have an obsession with otters?

(i really thought i was going to get into the sylvanian families magazine for this one.)

ten hours

during this time i had a kitten biting my feet non stop for a ridiculously long time, and i hugged my dad so hard, crying uncontrollably to him that i was so happy to finally be home.

then i woke up.

one for the team

i reckon that not letting yourself realise and appreciate something until it is too late is a pretty miserable cycle to try and figure your way out of.

oh hello familiar mess

aren't you looking very cliche this morning?

ice oh late one

no matter how lonely i felt when i was here on my own, nothing feels as isolated as this.

repeat after me

i must not spread myself too thinly this year
i must not spread myself too thinly this year
i must not spread myself too thinly this year
i must not spread myself too thinly this year
i must not spread myself too thinly this year

tickled

today we were asked what we wanted to do after our degrees re: our degrees.

i said "well i want to move to canada" and people laughed but it wasnt supposed to be funny.

someone else said "i want to write the ingredients on shampoo bottles" which was.

shades of grey

are all very well until there are no colours too.

dark silk

Stop looking into the filth of the night for your answers
It might weave spiders webs around your dreams
But murk is never what it seems...