us under the wrecked sky, trailing cotter pins and oil. there’s ectoplasm clouding your eyes, and i thought you’d gone crazy when you stopped the car, left it growling and breathing white into the air, and took your father’s black electrical tape and made two upside down crosses on the headlights. you said it wasn’t the devil, you said it was god we were looking for. i told you you were incurable, and when the car flailed out from under you you let me drive. i kept my shirtsleeves pulled down over my fingers, hands soft and loose on the wheel. you said it wasn’t gonna matter pretty soon, and i just said your name. i thought if i loved you any harder all the coyotes would drop dead from shame. the car seemed to sleep under me, healed itself of the underworld, and we were both trying not to think of echo morgan in the trunk.
Femme Nation: A photo series by 16 year old Hailey Corrall to provoke a message about misogyny in our youth.
do you ever get that horrible feeling in your stomach because you can’t imagine anyone ever falling in love with you and wanting to spend the rest of their life with you
There’s this new fad where everyone wants to be with God and I don’t mean in His soul or whatever but actually
Be With Him. Widows are leaving their homes. College girls spend too long in old men bars. My dog was even staring up at a church, pulling against her leash to get in. There’s just something sexy about knowing. Like, shit, maybe we are His kids or whatever but it would be nice to be kissed by a mouth that knew what it was doing. I just want to be taken care of anyway. Swaddled. Coddled. Held like a baby sparrow, like a goldfish out of water for a couple moments. We’re all waiting somewhere.
no offense but my favorite hobby is staying hydrated and beautiful