bruisedhoney
sext: it is a humid night in july. we undress each other in the back of your car and form one mound of sweaty flesh. sext: fireflies fall on your skin. i kiss the trail they leave to find your light. sext: we share a bath and come out dripping each other. sext: the atomic bomb is not as loud as my heartbeat when you lie next to me. sext: come over, i want to taste moonlight when it’s licked off your skin. sext: we undo each other and come back together in one hot flash of light. sext: you burn over everyone else’s touch. sext: they dust me for fingertips and find nothing but your claw marks. sext: the sound of your teeth digging into my bare skin and my moans are the most beautiful duet. sext: you are 48% water. i would be happy to drown in you. sext: you are the poem i will spend my whole life trying to write.
"sext: you" - Lora Mathis 


(via bbyglitter)
bruisedhoney

We all do foolish things when we are teenagers. We all have foolish false events that happen to us, foolish gaps in our memories. Not everything that has happened, has ever really happened.

Listeners, especially our younger listeners, consider this:

When we talk about teenagers, we adults often talk with an air of scorn, of expectation for disappointment. And this can make people who are presently teenagers feel very defensive.

But what everyone should understand is that none of us are talking to the teenagers that exist now, but talking back to the teenager we ourselves once were – all stupid mistakes and lack of fear, and bodies that hadn’t yet begun to slump into a lasting nothing.

Any teenager who exists now is incidental to the potent mix of nostalgia and shame with which we speak to our younger selves.

May we all remember what it was like to be so young. May we remember it factually, and not remember anything that is false, or incorrect.

May we all be human – beautiful, stupid, temporal, endless.

And as the sun sets, I place my hand upon my heart, feel that it is still beating, and remind myself: Past performance is not a predictor of future results.

Stay tuned now for whatever happens next in your life.

Welcome to Night Vale, Episode 33, Cassette   (via bbyglitter)
bruisedhoney

angel-fetus:

liquored push      unfolded thighs    he advances inserts into girl        inward breathing 
machine peeling   sugar tongue mine         tears tender        unripe cherry bleed 
blow her rupture             condone mechanical       pump fire          when she opens  
mouth    ingests   he inserts           hands spread eagle         bind                  nightshift quiet 
skin frozen          invites entrance  tinseled hostess slivered  blows     job hazard 
teeth break in                  fruit flesh wet   lips open            handled pulling   it is dark