Fawn

[archivesbyafawn]

A Sinner by your Poet Fawn.

Beautiful soul, broken heart.

Born among the flowers of a delivery room.

Fate looked at me with closed eyes.

Uneasy childhood, I was not aware of my mind. Quick as a cheetah.

At the age of 8, I hid from the light, bad men caught me naked, until 11 no tears fell from my eyes.

Passive attitude towards darkness, darkness I ended up touching.

Between pills and drugs I was swimming, swimming between loneliness and madness.

I went down to the well of fear, a mean and musty depression covered me, with the smell of tobacco smoke.

At seventeen, I was absent-minded when I closed my eyes, the bad men caught me naked again. This time, broken in bed, no thoughts.

Why did fate write this for me, is this a manuscript or draft of some crazy writer from America?

My tears cemented in my pupils.

I was punished with love.

I don't know what road I'm taking, maybe I'm taking the road to hell.

God, help me, I'm your only believer down here. Save me from this. I beg you, save me. Send me signs if I have to do it alone.

Don't blow out my candle in the wee hours of the morning, don't cut my hair when I sleep.

Put some band-aid on my heart, I'm a bad lover, bad son, bad boyfriend, bad friend, bad self.

Though if I get lost, you can find me in the river, among mosses, mushrooms, fairies and elves. That's where I think I come from.

Thieves in my head who steal the rope that keeps me sane.

Already my tears are falling, I was blessed with an angel, in the end his wings were black, his love, the purest, I grew horns. Now I am a deer.

Fate, are you really writing this, do you want my untimely death?

Am I not worthy to breathe, to see the gold of the mornings, the dew of the night?

Between sleeping pills and snuff diving, I dance desperately in the night, trying to get cupid to stick it in my heart.

I don't beg for love, I don't beg to be loved, I only beg for peace of mind.

Lying on the road, I'm hitchhiking.

I don't like to talk about my parents, although I'd spend my whole life doing it, talking about them, how I love and hate them.

Maybe I'm just a fawn or an alien.

Leave me alone on this bench, leave me alone in my thoughts. When someone wants to save me, don't be afraid to bite.

I'm still trying to rest.

[archivesbyafawn]

Hi @mothercain. after having played Perverts more than 62x times., I confess that something has changed both inside and outside of me. Like. I dance with the darkness, I have no anxiety whatsoever and I look terribly fuckable. I don't know what you've done, but mother, you've done something and I'm totally grateful.

🌪️

[6ibsongirl-deactivated20260128]

[archivesbyafawn]

Thanks Ethel 4 Perverts

[mothercain]

[mothercain]

Circus

What if I broke my spine forever? My sister would come into the room to draw her portraits in charcoal, of two bulging eyes in a sea of haze grey. Each portrait is no bigger than an index card, arranged on a piece of rigid stock paper, tessellated and horribly consistent. All those dead eyes staring out at her as she renders them incapable of telling her anything. “I hate you” she would say to me, every time she would finish another. “You’ve ruined it. You’ve completely ruined it.” She would storm out the room, echoing for complete lack of furniture, and I would be left alone with them to watch over me.

I would ask you to pick me up and you would do so carefully, my limp body soft and complete. Can you carry me, lay me on the mattress in the back of the house? Or on the ground, it doesn’t make a difference to me. Sometimes I think you don’t believe I can’t feel anything and most of the time I don’t believe you can imagine what that’s like.

“Crush me” I tell you. I can only blink my eyes and move my mouth. I could probably wiggle my ears if I tried but I never feel up to it. You would gently press down on my breasts and my rib cage.

“Can you feel that?”

I slowly move my head left to right and back again.

I think about outside and what it feels like to be there. The treetops and the june-bugs and the hatred I feel for summertime. Everyone has gone on without me.

“Hit me.”

You look at me like you don’t want to but I know where your wonder hides, in the small places like a boy afraid of his own shadow.

You punch me in my side, my arm, my stomach.

“Can you feel that?”

I smile so big like I’m at the circus.

“Cut me.”

“What?”

“Cut me.”

You look down at me on the mattress. Here I am, unmoving and so horny.

“Please, baby, if I never ask anything of you ever again, just cut me.”

Wonder-boy takes his buck knife and carves a small canyon on my upper thigh. I wouldn’t know if I hadn’t watched him do it.

“Again.”

He looks me in my eyes as he separates another layer of subcutaneous. It is pink and red and yellow and blue and disgusting. I am butter and cottage cheese inside.

He stands there over me, belt unbuckled, denim undone, sweating, afraid, wonder creeping out for a closer look. His eyes are wild, so far from the fog of mine. Yet, we both want the very same thing. He removes his penis from his clothes and his clothes from his body and he slides it, hard as stone, back and forth through the gushing flesh of my upper thigh. I can’t feel a thing but I could cum just from watching. I have my own wonder too. The air in the room is hung from the ceiling unmoving like a puppet sleeping on his gallows. I am so lucky that he loves me, I am I am I am. He fucks my butchered leg like a stray dog and I cum over and over and over again watching him.

We embrace like kin in the hospital waiting room. “I am so lucky that he loves me” I think as he holds me. Despite the bright red picture I’ve painted in the white lobby tonight, they ask of me just five minutes. I don’t mind. If I don’t look, it makes no difference to me.

[archivesbyafawn]

thanks Ethel Cain for dropping the vinyl... I can't afford it, but in the future, I hope to be able to buy it. I'm about to find a sugar daddy and sell my body to get it.

And again, thanks @mothercain 🤧🕯️🪽

[archivesbyafawn]

thanks Ethel Cain for dropping the vinyl... I can't afford it, but in the future, I hope to be able to buy it. I'm about to find a sugar daddy and sell my body to get it.

And again, thanks @mothercain 🤧🕯️🪽

[0utlaw-t0rn]

closeups of the ptolemaea collage

[mothercain]

[archivesbyafawn]

Hi! I'm writing my second poetry book. So I think I'm gonna start to share the ideas of the aesthetic or mood...

[archivesbyafawn]

Idk how this app works to make posts look nice. I'm trying ok?

[mothercain]

can you explain « he was a natural plauché » and what it means in punish ?

the og concept for perverts was a character study about different “perverts”, inspired by reading knockemstiff. a sex addict, a pedophile, an arsonist, a sedative addict, etc. the project is completely different now but punish and amber waves are the only surviving demos from it so they’re still about that. punish is about a pedophile who was shot by the child’s father and now lives in exile where he physically maims himself to simulate the bullet wound in order to punish himself. at least that’s what i had in mind i wrote it. the song can be whatever you want it to be.

[archivesbyafawn]

Wow

[archivesbyafawn]

Ethel Cain's New Song It has left me cold, like, the drums, her voice. I heard her in my room, with the lights off, well, I had a candle, when she finished, my candle went out. Just when she says "I am punished by love".

@mothercain just wow.... I still have goosebumps

[vqtkufi]

Resentment.

@mothercain

[archivesbyafawn]

I love this, thanks Hayden.

[archivesbyafawn]

Hi! I'm writing my second poetry book. So I think I'm gonna start to share the ideas of the aesthetic or mood...