ms711us

Latest Posts by ms711us

destiny is usually just around the corner. like a thief, a hooker, or a lottery vendor: its three most common personifications. but what destiny does not do is home visits. you have to go for it. (at 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙫𝙞𝙗𝙚𝙨) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqDfqLnuSt0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

watch the sawdust n dirt,

swirl swirl swirl

down the drain

everything popular is wrong

oscar wilde

“evil is unspectacular and always human, and shares our bed and eats at our own table.” - criminal minds

“you’re never more alive than when you’re almost dead”

tim o’brien

“i feel so sad. i feel so abandoned. i feel very alone”“we’re all alone, reva.”

-my year of rest & relaxation

“one should always be drunk. that’s all that matters…but with what? with wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. but get drunk.”

it’s three-thirty in the morning, that’s a bad time to talk about should-haves and would-haves - needful things

« we all had some coffee. after that i don’t know any more. the night passed. » - the stranger

one of the oldest human needs is having someone to wonder where you are when you don't come home at night - margaret mead

the sweet scent of cigarettes and semen on your lips

throw ur dreams in the trash baby girl xx

life flies by, especially the bit that’s worth living

and he sat at the oncologist waiting room as life dimmed outside

turtle neck sweaters and steaming mugs of coffee and overcast clouds and leaves of red and yellow and orange and glossy doc martens and red lipstick stains on necks and pinkie promises and crunching strolls on new york city sidewalks

light means nothing when your mind is dark

dear mr sandman… …

🪦🥀📽

« smoking kills »

« that’s the point isn’t it? »

dizzyingly alone, me and the metal chamber.

👽🛸🪐

ohh she’s pretty with the sunset in her hair

this is what being alive is. a sticky menu between you and me in a cramped booth by a black window.

new york, new york

grand central smelt of pennies, ticket stubs, and desperation at 5:15 am.

"where're you headed?" the worker asked.

where was he headed? he didn’t realize leaving meant going away. but to go far enough to be folded into memory or far enough to be followed? would his wife search for him?

"connecticut.”

no comment; the worker printed a slip and took his money mechanically.

he needed a congratulations, deserved one for his decision. but who would congratulate a man abandoning his wife?

her beer tasted of sawdust and foam coated her boots; nuts were bland and counter sweaty. but the air was lime fresh and the night neon young and she was free.

myra.

mess mess mess

my mind’s

cluttered mess

doesn’t the daisy calm your nerves, dear?

there are no exits where you’re going

no socks

are allowed in the red-room

no pretty pink flowers

are allowed

at the woods at night

it was nearly 4 am as red light streamed out the bar, sifting through drunk legs. it was closing time, even in new york city.

“let me take you home,” he asked; breath smelling more metallic than his eyebrow piercing.

she smiled into his swirling eyes,

and she was never seen again.

- myra

reminds me of the end of the world and i love it 🤍

~~

“we must not always talk in the market-place of what happens to us in the forest,”