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Cosmic Funnies
Jules of Nature

izzy's playlists!
ojovivo
YOU ARE THE REASON

titsay
Three Goblin Art
todays bird

@theartofmadeline
KIROKAZE

Discoholic 🪩

JVL
tumblr dot com
hello vonnie
No title available

★

oozey mess

Janaina Medeiros
Sweet Seals For You, Always
seen from Japan

seen from Malaysia

seen from South Korea

seen from United States
seen from Romania

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
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seen from Singapore
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
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seen from Germany
@libraprofile
via baileyycooper
www.destroyedandbetrayedyourselffornothing.com/careers
Harplike tree splintering in the Forest of Dean
Armenian medical manuscript on Horse Healing 13th century
via
lol she doesnt even know that the body is a loan or that earth is the true flesh
Astoria, Queens, NY.
Stills from the film Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (1992), directed by David Lynch.
David Lynch is directing dreams now btw
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.