[poeticjackalope]

fuck me I guess

or maybe dont. Don't. I can't take another quickie. Fucking in your moms garage bent over a lone folding chair, sweating from the baked cement. You never look at me after.

Even worse is the nights where we fuck nice and long and you get everything you ask for. Beg for. I give it to you. I'll give you whatever you want. For a while there you'd cuddle close to me after. Legs tangled, skin sticky. Sticking together. Everything smelling like sex. I got used to it, that's my fault. I looked forward to that this time. A little bit of affection after you took what you wanted from me. My mistake. I forgot my place– the emotional support fleshlight. You fucked me and you got to cum and after. After. I curled up at my end of the bed with a pillow clutched to my chest, forcing my thoughts to drain before I could start crying. 2 feet of space between us, you eat the food I bought and play videos on the tv, asking if I'm going to sleep. Yes. Yes. I'm going to sleep. I'm having a bad dream.

[poeticjackalope]

my cat died on august 20th, 2025 and the process of losing him ruined me. It rotted me from the inside out. I didn't take enough pictures. I don't have enough videos of him. The last one is 26 seconds long, but I cannot bring myself to watch it very often. I can't bear to see the sickness in his guant face.

I watched it today, on my lunch break. Alex has been staying at the godforsaken apartment this week. He even spent the whole day with the other cat (the only cat left) in the house. Stumpy. It quietly pleased me, as so few things do anymore, because I cannot find it in me to give the cat affection. A long time ago he was my cat, but not anymore and that is for the best. Stumpy deserved to spend the day with someone willing to indulge him. Not a miserable creature who stares and blinks and looks away, closes a door for the night. Someone who's tainted fingers click away on a screen until, for 26 seconds, you are alive again. And again. And again.

[poeticjackalope]

the worst thing ive ever done is want, so it seems. I want, so badly. Its insatiable, because the satiability is you. You do not want the same things I do. Maybe that is why im crumpled up on the porch. Dont touch the body, just call the cops and pat yourself on the back for doing the least involved thing possible in this scenario.

[poeticjackalope]

he wakes me up at 4 am, im not really sleeping asking me to help him turn off the fan in the living room. he's already unplugged it before knocking on my door.

five minutes later he's fucking me on the couch. holding my neck down and using me for all im good for. Using whatever part of me he likes. I let him. I thought i heard him say it. I love you. So quick and breathy and mixed with the sounds of. Well. Us, I suppose. I didn't respond, afraid that id heard him wrong. I hope I didnt hear him wrong.

Normal sex. He cums and I dont. He cleans up first. I go to bed alone.

[poeticjackalope]

im still kneeling at the end of the couch

im kneeling but youre the one who's under me this time and youre begging

I wish I could beg like that. I wish I could say no to you

Instead I am kneeling and im saying all the things youre asking for

Theyre real. Theyre real. I mean them. I mean the mark i left on your thigh, too. I mean it.

Im worshiping a memory. Replaying the way you said my name. I cant think of anything else. Nothing else. I can smell you anywhere i go. Feel you on my fingertips. Im still kneeling.

[poeticjackalope]

if you haven't already

please delete those photos you took of me

saturday night

I don't like knowing, or rather, not knowing, if you kept them

[poeticjackalope]

my best friend is

the love of my life is

my soul mate

we will never be married. this i know.

[poeticjackalope]

hey when do you want to have sex again

the real kind

the kind where you cum and I don't. when promises and declarations are made and you're (maybe) not thinking of someone else. the kind where you are not soft or kind and I can't beg you to be just for right now.

the kind where, after, the embarrassment comes in fragments and I feel shame separating my skin from my muscle and dowels pin me in place.

after, you don't want to look at me or think about me and what you've just reduced yourself to. this can last for hours or days. who's to say.

those days of discomfort, after, I pull myself apart and put myself back together in an effort to dislodge the possessive, needy weed that reappears every time for you.

I just need to prepare myself. let me know.

[poeticjackalope]

You make me so goddamn soft

[poeticjackalope]

Breakthrough woop

Alright stoned thoughts. I have cracked the code. So. Being high makes me really fuckin horny and I've never really understood why aside from general.. throbbing. Ew gross. No anyway. Now I know. Weed puts me in such an exceptionally vulnerable headspace now, one where I know I am more suggestable and absolutely less guarded. More needy. I think its some sort of subspace almost without a Dom or fuckin scene in place I guess. I have absolutely pavloved this thing into my smoking experience. And me rn needs you badly. Me right now wants you to use and belittle me lowkey. Very nice shit very nice shit. Except then I sober up and it feels less nice but that's ech thats just a lot rn. I could probably go again tbh. Let's see.

Oh FUCK right oh my god okay so I was having a talk with god in my head and it was having coffee with me because its been a while. And it asked about you because you are my heart and I talked about you for so long a forest rose up all around us. There is so much to say that its its own language. Every day I am thankful no one can read my mind so I can tippy tap it out and click post. Have you also ever had the "Tumblr post-post nut clarity" where you click post and regret the entire action– the whole process– but its already been seen by someone so its just out there forever now even if you delete it.

[poeticjackalope]

I feel like im talking into an echo chamber here. This is like the one place where no one knows me. Which means no one hears me. Which is nice

Im so stoned and that makes me so sad. I know im running from my ghosts and all their chains interlinked and rusting. I'm not ready to look them in the eye. In my mind theres a garden and we are safe there. Im sorry I get off to the idea of you getting off to me. Im more sorry that I have such an urge to kiss you when im with you. I've thought about the taste and shape of your mouth on saturday night so much that when I close my eyes it plays like a movie in my head. Newport and whiskey, not the old fashioned and the birthday shots from your dad, but the red stag shooters that have become your new favorite. Frosting too. You know what i realized the second time that night when your eyes went all soft and dopey and suddenly your mouth is on mine and you keep making those sounds. I legitimately could have spent the rest of that night making out with you in front of some strangers house in phoenix. Oh my god im so high. I miss you. I sound deranged.

Anyways im sorry. To the most gorgeous boy I've ever laid eyes on. Now that's an epitaph. To the void thats listening, let me tell you this– He has the most beautiful eyes in the world. Big and blue and captivating. I'd look at his eyes– his face too my god– all day just to ingrane every fine detail into my memory if he'd let me. I sound fucking nuts I get that, but I also think our new online society has lost its appreciation for insane lovesick artists and writers. Its only cool when they do it.

I dont know. I cant believe i have to go to work tomorrow. Can you remember exactly what it felt like in your body as a 7 year old; you're being woken up at 4 am which is kindof crazy for a 7 year old; you get into your carseat and luggage is loaded next to you or in the trunk; and this is before led streetlamps were a thing and through your eyelids is a hazy orange glow every few seconds; the memory is foggy but keep going; you enter some airport or maybe train station groggy and slow; check in and security and boarding all blur together; you sleep on the plane. Do you remember all of the smells? Or how the fuzzy street lights felt so soft and maybe in that sleepy mind otherworldly. I think thats my raingutter. Damn you.

most beloved. my most beloved.

This headache is getting worse by the day. Goodnight.

[poeticjackalope]

i think beauty is a thing that is born only to be loved to death

What i mean by that is i dont think times square was meant to grow brighter and bigger every decade but rather swallowed whole by its residents that have grown so used to its bedazzlement with love until it was gone

What i mean is real life is born and it grows and it dies, and being alive is the most beautiful thing you can do, and our only purpose is to love beautiful things to death so there is space for more

What im saying is it doesnt need to be like this forever

You are the brightest star in my minds night sky and I'll love you until it burns out

I want to build new times square with you and we can bring all the other stars with us

[poeticjackalope]

I see the whole galaxy when I look at you

[poeticjackalope]

im spiraling again and I have no where to put it and you're not here what the fuck do i do

Why do i want you so badly when you've made it so, so evident you will never want me in any way

Unless you're horny and alone and im a good fuck for half an hour and I dont cum and you dont say anything after and go to your bed or face away from me in my car or you offer for me to sleep on your floor then ask me to go home unless your ex girlfriend is sleeping in bed behind us and im just there so of course

Of course

Im in love with you

I've been trying to bleed it out of me for years now but its never enough, not even close

And you tell me you're upset by the way I don't take anything from you

I can't take what I want from you, alex

I'm not vying for a premature goodbye

Im a bad person because I love you and I want you and im a rot you should get as far away from as possible

Im a disease

I would do anything to be enough for you to want. Even if it was just for another drunk fuck. Even if you only wanted to use me.

What did siken say?

[poeticjackalope]

he is half of my soul, as the poets say

[cryptidstealingyourcreditcard]

so obsessed with “it’s gorgug, keep going” because like. gorgug didn’t know that that would do anything. he had no clue that it would help anyone, even for a second. he had been given no reason to believe that the other would hear his message at all, but he still picked up that rock and recorded “it’s gorgug, keep going”. he had a spell that could’ve been used to weaken kalina, but instead used it to record a simple message for his friends on the off chance that anyone would find it. he knew that everyone would be on different paths, and still took the time and spell slot to try to comfort them, to say he was there and to keep going. “it’s gorgug, keep going”. gorgug was here. he wants you to push through. you can do it, he knows you can. keep going.

idk im so ill about him

[poeticjackalope]

im really starting to think it is this goddamn phone