Rinee Dagger 雨

She/her/ella. 28 I write stuff. Driven by fear, (h)anger and lust. Bubbly nerdy introvert in disguise. "I am she and she is me– a little bit of her, and a little bit of me" El diario de un dragón azul: @dragonazull

[rineedagger]

Poor little wanderer,

I saw you shed your first tear— beg on your knees

with your bare face, reaching to heaven through prayer.

Desperation seeping through sweaty nightmares and

a pair of arms swinging in constant defense.

Dancing along the lines of the vortex with your heart throbbing

and your lips twisting.

You feared Death

and now you seek it— I can smell your desire

in each cell,

each pretense to find meaning.

What a sweet thing,

roaming through your soft tissue until it hardens

because you cannot dwell with the truth of your demons.

You’re on your own—

but I’m always there,

at the bottom of your throat,

mouth of your stomach

spreading down your thighs

and a burden to your chest.

If you listen closely, you’ll hear me

echoing in the back of your head.

Whether addressing, confessing

or repressing— I will be there,

watching

judging

roaming…

enjoying.

[castlevolkihar]

“i just don’t know if i can be alone right now.” - obsession (2026) dir. curry barker

[rineedagger]

flesh eating rachitic dog stop tensing your jaw and let go.

Feel the cold bite through skin as the body turns to sand and bones lose their shape.

Oh little creature... you forgot rule number one: you can''t outrun what you wished for and began.

It remembers your scent— its hunger has long legs and its desire will prevail through storms and rain.

Look at you stained with dry blood and drown in self pity— you should've known better.

[tammysneurosis]

stills from 'Carrie' (1976)

edited by me

[rineedagger]

To my misfortune, I became an autolytic sphere, a self-devouring body ruptured by devastating heat waves and periods of pure glacial infernos.

Sometimes, the void would break against the null seatbacks of nothingness, dissolving into an eternal echo. Others, the whole would implode into endless particles, gathering as a specter of ash and dust.

I cannot bear unknown hands when I can barely hold the weight of my own name.

Perhaps that is why I will die unknown myself.

[twohousesoftheholy]

CONTAGION

She is my rider

I, her adjacent storm

Do you not understand

A tempest flows lava

Pure heat in her blood

At the same time as

Ice in her veins

Do you not understand

When she submits

Its only in order to dominate

The total of both your brains

Of her you cannot conceive

Contagion

Tell me why

The length of her throat calls me

With a fever I can’t deny

Her eyes

Infectious in their desire

I can see even sense the hunger

The feminine urge to sack and to plunder

The riches my famine contains

Thus, unexpectedly, just how, and why

I need all of her as solution

She is epidemic and calling to me

As my only want in life defined

To her I am bound and determined

Her place is secured, endemic, untraceable

She walks through the plague at my side

Inherent, infecting me

Her mind, far too brilliant to compare

There is no abandoning such intelligence

One can only, in her presence,

Succumb to

The only intractable cure

[h-isforhome]

they don't tell you this but if ur really lonely for a long time, a hole starts forming in ur heart and the longer u feel lonely the bigger the hole gets and it doesn't matter if u feel less lonely when ur older bc the hole stays forever and ur life just grows around it. But the hole is always there.

[rineedagger]

I feel like this since I was very, very young. If I could go back in time and give myself an advice it surely would be to give up—give up on fitting, on trying to understand why, looking for that different piece that builds a complete aberrant figure beneath the "normal" demeanor. I would tell myself to feed my brain instead of burn it. To let myself outgrow whatever it needs to and become whoever it is beyond anyone's understanding and limitation.

Because that, my friend, will only make the hole grow bigger and deeper. And let me tell you something: there's a limit in everyone— It is not worth it.

[toiich]

Daughters of Darkness (1971), dir. Harry Kümel

[toiich]

News from Home (1977), dir. Chantal Akerman

[phlegmaphoto]

[sailormatrixe]

‘welcome back, dear hunter’

—- like a gargoyle splitting seems, learning how to be seen in a human flesh,

you

let all things flourish until they perish of your poison, hand always inside the helm,

stark arrows in the brows and elbows to the furnace,

cutting corners like glass to the fragile flesh on your face,

that helmet molding tighter and tighter, as is night by day,

still somehow human despite all the bandits callouses,

fragile, born of grief and rage,

always turning that cheek,

the ol’ flame of karma ever licking your back.

[dragonazull]

22 de mayo, viernes.

Rechazo el aprendizaje rígido y lineal. La imposición de sentido y del orden de conocimiento— como si solo existiera un camino para cada destino.

Bien sabemos que no hay aventura sin exploración, y que la exploración es la base de todo aprendizaje. ¿Por qué, pues, se me arrebató la aventura de aprender?

Desde pequeña, el sistema me demostró que controla mis tiempos, mis porqués, las formas y los cómos. Dónde debe ir mi atención, cómo debo comunicar y aprender. Cómo debía usar el saber y, a cambio, se me dotaría de un papel, comodidades, estabilidad y...quizás poder.

Tu pensar, tu sentir, tu tiempo, tu esfuerzo, tu dinero...todo prostituido para satisfacer. No vale con cumplir, has de comprender lo que se te exige. Aprende, pero lo que cada rostro, cada mente espera de ti. No pienses, solo diles lo que quieren oír. Susurra, cede, guarda silencio, complace y abre la boca cuando se te insinúe. Estudia sus gestos, su voz, su cuerpo. Cédete, pues solo así podrás comer.

Es así que comprendí, no soy más que un cuerpo a merced de la complacencia ajena pero, ¿cómo podía dar algo que nunca sentí?

Pero el hambre es una de las motivaciones biológicas más potentes que abarcará lo inalcanzable por mantenerte viva— puede que nunca sepas lo que es la satisfacción, pero aprenderás a sobrevivir.

La culpa me embriaga hasta anularme los sentidos. Mi juicio, solloza entre carmesíes y cianes. Me prostituí a la sociedad, al sistema, a la cultura, a mi propia familia. Prioricé su palabra bajo la esperanza de poder salir.

Y me equivoqué.

No solo me equivoqué, sino que a cambio, se me arrebató lo único que me podía alimentar.

Ahora me muero de hambre

y les da igual.

[shamanfox]

The Unusual Poem

There is a church at the bottom of my throat

where broken radios go to confess.

The priest is a woman made entirely of weather,

her fingers smelling of cigarettes and rainwater,

her mouth full of moths

that escape whenever she says the word mercy.

I met her beside a river

dragging a piano behind her

like a wounded black horse.

“Every love song,” she told me,

“is just a taxidermy bird

stitched together well enough

to fool the lonely.”

Then she laughed

that cracked cathedral laugh

while the moon hung above us

like a coin forgotten in God’s pocket.

I have been unusual ever since.

Now I sleep inside metaphors

the way drunks sleep inside parked cars:

half dreaming of salvation,

half afraid to turn the key.

The city outside my window

keeps peeling off its own skin.

Streetlights bloom like nervous saints.

Even the alley cats walk around

with prophecy in their ribs.

And every morning

I put on my father’s silence

like an oversized suit jacket

still smelling faintly

of gasoline and prayer.

Somewhere, a woman undresses

in front of a cracked motel mirror,

watching her body fall apart

into little republics of light.

Somewhere, a preacher is bribing heaven

with borrowed money.

Somewhere, a child is holding a jar firefly

like a temporary religion.

And me

I keep carrying this enormous invisible violin

through customs,

telling everyone it contains

nothing dangerous.

Though occasionally, at night,

when the dark leans close enough to listen,

I hear all the strings inside it

beginning to burn.

[crmsnmth]

Tender Violence

I hate you in the way flame hates oxygen dependent devouring impossible without it

You love in the softest parts of me like a splinter I refused to pull because pain felt better than empty skin

I hate the way your name still fits into my mouth like it belongs there like a prayer I don't believe in anymore

You built a home within my chest then lit matches just to watch it burn and I stood there warming my hands on the wreckage telling myself it was love

I hate how I'd still answer if you called at 12:53 AM voice cracked apologies spilling like cheap liquor I'd drink every word and pretend it didn't poison me

Because loving you was always a slow suicide romanticized self-inflicted beautiful in the worst ways

and hating you? that's just love with its teeth finally showing

[requiem-on-water]

by Oliver Roos

[petite7]

how can we judge people for their choices when we knew nothing about their options

[rineedagger]

Actually, this is one of the basics in criminology. We pay too much attention to the goal but not enough to the resources available to achieve them. And that lack of attention usually says more about your privilege.

[iamcon-fu-sion]

if i set my teeth into the flesh of your arm and rest there know that i do not mean to tear it away only to latch myself onto you in some more permanent way

i feel your blood on my tongue but do not fear the hunger in my eyes i am a wild thing at best and my love is a violent guest