richie @apathyanathema - Tumblr Blog

agnes-nielsens

a former coworker is a kind of dead wife

#carter i miss you

tankhall

i miss my vibrator

apathyanathema

the notification for this post came up right as i was trying to show my coworker something on my phone…

#she’s a chiller though so she didn’t gaf #i told her it was hayden’s tumblr and she said honestly good for her #me too girl

andiforgotwhatstopmeans

suffering is nigh, drawing to me

calling me the one, i'm the white light

mothercain

I turn off the yellow lights so the bathroom is only red. The sound of the cheap projector spinning, humming quietly, endlessly. I close the door and I lock it and then close the door and I lock it and then I stand under the water. The drugs round the corners of the shower slightly and I'm able to stick my hand through the tile if I want but only if I want. I will always look for a crack in the wall through which to feel it. To touch it. To put it in my mouth and my mouth on it. It's easier when it is dark and when it is cold or when it is suffocatingly hot but always when I'm alone. It does not come to me where other people can see it, unless I take the drugs, at which point no one can see me though I can see all of them. I want to stare at the sun for a while, but not nakedly. Instead I hang up quilt over quilt and watch it try to get through. I want to take more drugs because I want to get high because I want to see it and wrap myself up in it. Maybe I should do drugs before I do interviews. I make all my music high out of my mind, it seems silly to talk about it later while sober. Do I even know what I'm talking about when I'm sober? I'm recounting a memory of an experience I had with God, now with God having left the room. I don't have to explain to you what I'm talking about it, you already know. I don't care who you are, you know. You've been alone at least once in your life so you know. I blacked out every window of my bedroom in the attic in Pennsylvania and I rocked back and forth on my bed with the drugs and I cried asking for it to come to me. I want it all the time. I am so angry that it will let me near but it won't let me stay. It's so cruel. It laughs at me when I realize we are not the same. I'm going to take more drugs and get in the shower and put my hand through the tile. I know you can hear me. It's happening to everybody.

anglaised

happy get fat and let the money stack Tuesday

mothercain-deactivated20231124

it’s just like….. late night televangelism and government conspiracies and tight, brown secretary dresses and overwhelmed mothers who were never that pretty and grimy middle school cafeterias and schoolyard bullies and giving into violent urges and masturbating with your eyes closed and needlepoint hanging on wood paneling and never drinking or smoking except once in a blue moon because it’s a nasty habit but sometimes you just need to be nasty and collecting old books that you’ll never read because you like how pretty the spines are and being barefoot all the time and never doing anything with your hair besides letting it grow and praying at the foot of your bed once a month so you don’t forget what it was like and collecting pond water in little old bottles and liking it when the air outside is sweltering because it makes you feel high and stopping on the side of the highway to sit in the grass and stare at nothing in particular and saying hi to old people in the grocery store because you worry they feel invisible and ultimately knowing that yesterday is too new and everything you used to love gets smaller and smaller in the rearview

apathyanathema

can yall tell i’m going through the @mothercainarchive