Boulimie nocturne
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
YOU ARE THE REASON
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
No title available
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Show & Tell
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Origami Around
The Bowery Presents

roma★
Misplaced Lens Cap
Game of Thrones Daily
official daine visual archive

Andulka

bliss lane
Noah Kahan

pixel skylines
Sade Olutola

Product Placement

Kiana Khansmith
seen from Burkina Faso
seen from Netherlands
seen from Morocco

seen from Indonesia

seen from Ecuador
seen from Venezuela
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Canada
seen from Jordan
seen from Bangladesh

seen from Brazil
seen from Austria
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from Pakistan
seen from China

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
@psychopute
Boulimie nocturne
« J'aime mieux les êtres qui saignent. J'aime les forts, bien sûr, mais pas tout à fait les forts. J'aime les forts au regard tremblant, tremblant d'amour. »
ー Jean-René Huguenin
By: deadlyashes
J'y crois plus
Jsuis à bout de souffle
The Baltimore Sun, Maryland, August 23, 1942
Unpopular opinion : je sais pas ce qui s'est passé au cours de la dernière décennie mais ça fait belle lurette que je n'ai pas goûté un bon éclair et pourtant j'en ai arpenté des boulangeries avec mon gros corps
Les gosses de riches vraiment je peux pas, je peux PAS JE PEUX PLUS NIQUEZ TOUS VOS SALES DARONNES
Un duplex dans le 12ème, un planning vide
Des dessins et des rires
Et puis l'oubli
"16/03/18
Café froid, pilon coupé, larmes salées, l'intérieur qui brûle brûle brûle, l'envie de se planter un couteau dans le ventre pour défaire le nœud qui lie mes tripes et le planter planter planter, tourner jusqu'à enfin vider mon sac plein de graisse."
Pas la meilleure mais pas la pire non plus
Tu m'aimes ? Tu m'aimes ? Dis moi, est ce que tu m'aimes ? T'es sûr ?
C'est entre moi et moi
Entre moi et moi
Je contre moi
Jeux contre moi
C'est entre moi et moi
Entre moi et moi
Amélioration et dégradation constantes
J'ai le covid depuis mercredi, mes j ont le goût de khnouna c'est infect mais c'est pas ça qui va m'arrêter
Je porte une gaine, un t-shirt gainant et un pantalon une taille trop petit
J'étouffe
“I keep thinking, thinking, and my thoughts are all sick, and my head is sick.”
— Fyodor Dostoevsky, from Stories; “The Meek One,” written c. 1876
"I haven’t got a speech, I didn’t plan words, I didn’t even try to. I just knew that I had to get here, to stand here and I knew I wanted you to listen; to really listen, not just pull a face like you’re listening, like you do the rest of the time. A face like you’re feeling instead of processing. You pull a face and poke it towards the stage and la-di-da we sing and dance and tumble around and all you see up here, it’s not people, you don’t see people up here, it’s all fodder. And the faker the fodder is the more you love it because fake fodder’s the only thing that works anymore, fake fodder is all that we can stomach — actually not quite all. Real pain, real viciousness, that we can take. Yeah, stick a fat man up a pole and we’ll laugh ourselves feral cause we’ve earned the right, we’ve done cell time and he’s slacking the scum so ha ha ha at him. Cause we’re so out of our minds with desperation we don’t know any better. All we know is fake fodder and buying shit. That’s how we speak to each other, how we express ourselves is buying shit. I have a dream? The peak of our dreams is a new hat for our doppel, a hat that doesn’t exist. It’s not even there, we buy shit that’s not even there. Show us something real and free and beautiful, you couldn’t. It’d break us, we’re too numb for it, our minds would choke. There’s only so much wonder we can bear, that’s why when you find any wonder whatsoever you dole it out in meager portions, and only then til it’s augmented and packaged and pumped through ten thousand pre-assigned filters, til it’s nothing more than a meaningless series of lights, while we ride day-in, day-out — going where? Powering what? All tiny cells in tiny screens and bigger cells in bigger screens and fuck you. Fuck you, that’s what it boils down to is fuck you. Fuck you for sitting there and slowly knitting things worse. Fuck you and your spotlight and your sanctimonious faces and fuck you all, for taking the one thing I ever came close to anything real about anything. For oozing around it and crushing it into a bone, into a joke, one more ugly joke in a kingdom of millions and then fuck you. Fuck you for happening. Fuck you for me, for us, for everyone, fuck you."