sugars:

Why do people say “oh I can’t eat that it’s breakfast” time is a man made concept and I’m ready for this popcorn chicken

On your bed, the backseat of your car,
and once, under the flickering light in
the dressing room at that clothing store
in the mall, your skin pressed against
my mouth to suck up all the sound. You
called it what it was, fucking, hard and
erect against my thigh, caught between
my teeth like candied floss. You whispered
it into my ear like you were placing a
personal call to the sea, your voice a lasso
to the thing that was deeply embedded
within me. You told me to say it back and
I did, I did—I said it lowly at first, unsure
and stumbling. I was clumsy with it, it was
a new sound to me, the roughness of the c slamming me up against the door and
curling tightly in my throat, a knot. Your
leaving was just as painful, a battering from
the outside in. She asks me to say it, my
therapist, that word I will not say now, the
thing that we did to each other in the dark,
under a flickering light, the waning moon,
in places where we thought they wouldn’t
find us. It is a drowning place, that word,
where you took me and did not let me float.

Kristina Haynes, “Redefining the Word” (via fleurishes)

dragonraider:

Today is the 3 year aniversary of me and my friend getting left behind on a school field trip in hawaii and desperately trying to convince the chaperones and our own parents that were thousands of miles away to believe it wasn’t actually an April fools joke.

Sup, punks?

//[Sighs boredly.]

shslfeminist:

my writing style could best be described as “probably more commas than is entirely necessary”