@ahoradeestrela - Tumblr Blog

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the tate bros remind me of me when i was 4 trying to do the coolest dragon ball z poses

they dicked me OVER with the fucking planter's peanuts

so true the black goo is eroding me as we speak (see "black goo from dark city")

person with schizophrenia who has chosen to respond to auditory hallucinations with purely non-sequiturs, thus leading to a bizarre and asymmetrically sane dialogue that other schizophrenic patients find fascinating to observe

to my wife's ass: 𝕻𝖇𝖚𝖍𝖋𝖙𝕿𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖘𝖙𝖙𝖙𝖙𝖙𝖙

elderly man who wants to show off his impressive home theatre setup for all his friends but has only a blurry VHS recording of a grisly murder committed in the parking lot of his local grocery store

cracking and flaking at the joints excreting blood that has been replaced by a tar sludge oil sick sweat and there's a weight on my chest like my entire existence is being eaten by those goopy dirty wormy fingers and they sap all the experiential texture from my life until all that's left is that i feel the need to be here as only a sewer for other peoples disavowed miseries to wallow for me theyd be too inundated by the slamflood;

god it's so horrible reading the discourse. every thought is worth thinking but nah let's follow the usual paths for validation. wha happun to da freak era

"i dont have much time" -bro tossing the salad at panera

in my childhood games: i became aware of my sentience progressively earlier in the day until i was at my conception just a bright blinding white point of entry. a vampire went to school and forgot i was also a vampire once i saw my reflection in a window, so i went to inform the principal but he was away that day and i hid in the cupboard under the sink until the sun had set. i would spit strands of saliva into the sink out of boredom, they looked like strands of glimmering molten glass and then became glimmering crystals, i would grab and collect them until i had a jar full of them

in youth: i would slip into a sort of trance state, peeking perception from the corners of my eyes, and feeling the bones in my limbs expanding and then contracting away, my body seemingly shrinking and expanding in a fluid animation until all i was left with was a visceral sense of my bones

nowadays: i recall such previous accounts of my experiential universe without fully conceptualizing the raw sensory data that constituted it, but am still left with a sanguine affect beyond the mere recollection of the affect itself—which would be reduced to an affect devoid of a signified, just an intensity to no end—in being able to elicit the affect unto myself at any given future instances. in a vague nonlinguistic semiotic field, it means something to me

last night: i was sent to prison for a crime i hadn't committed; i was only accused because of my general disposition. i carved graffiti into the wall of the prison cell. a cockroach jumped onto my face when i was trying to sleep so i ripped its head off in fury. when the warden came to check on me i desperately pleaded with him that i was falsely incarcerated and it might not have come to this had he not been so condescending to me about it every single time i said it. that if he had just done a small amount of validation of my claim i would have been cooperative. i would later find him in his office having overdosed on opioids

i am always wantonly killing animals in dreams. oftentimes very small ones like ants, spiders, cockroaches, sometimes snakes, scorpions, crabs…i feel a visceral sadistic satisfacation when i do it. a "ha, got you!", or "fuck you". sometimes almost orgasmically. if i think back there are even instances of me killing my pets and stuffed animals in dreams. i have no such inclinations when not dreaming; i apologize even to inanimate objects when i bump into them or drop them. the closest ive felt to the mentioned affect was when i was cooking hot dogs over a fire while drunk and accidentally dropped them. the one i picked up with less hesitation fell apart in my hand and i chuckled a bit

wow this guy can't cook for shit they say regarding my 41 Michelin star restaurant Escoffier's Dick

i am inclined to think of myself as a princess of the kind who lets bunnies whisper in her ears and plays in grassy knolls

yo this looks like my grandaunt's blood clot after she crashed her car and died in 1989 what's it called so i can buy it -__-

magician who cant read

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