I6teenpsyche

still the avatar of the vast

[sinisterpopsicle]

[sinisterpopsicle]

your little game of selective outrage disguised as a puny fucking attempt at purity politics is exactly why you'll sit fuming in your bedrooms protecting your fictional gods, nitpicking facets of a revolution, the amount of nitpicking you couldn't put to use while electing a fascist government

go dick ride the police as it sexually assaults women and beats up children, dick ride the judiciary jiske paas "time nhi hai" for anything a degree more serious than a fucking tv show, make sure to zip their pants when ur done

tumhara desh koi separate entity nhi hai. logo se desh banta hai. no flags and no imagery means shit when your people are on the roads. Kise bachate fir rhe ho?

itna pyaar hai apne dharm se to tab kyu nhi bolte jab tumhare bhagwaan ka naam lia jaata hai votes ke liye?

no revolutions are beyond fallibility, and this one isn't claiming to be. it was never just about the damn exam, why the fuck would it be about the damn exam alone jab har aspect me har din a regular citizen of this country is prey to some kind of systemic failure?

chutiye tum ho chutiye tum rahoge, bachate raho apne bhagwaan ko, keep holding onto your damn temples and your religion and your caste, im sure this will save you when the time comes

[pixiecorpse]

nancy downs

[sinisterpopsicle]

rasa/

[if I may be so bold, I was never my own]

i am now out of waist chains but give me one cracked thrice. there are roaches and snakes and maggots in your dreams, there is splicing in mine. tricks of light and tricks of friends. there is no 12 of cups. the Gmaj scale, circle of fourths. piranesi and the fibrosis of my contempt.

chills all over on a summer night, chills almost every summer night, give or take a few. a bird song-like epiphany, the bird-

softly, i hover over you

dead fish on my collarbone and a triradiate incision

rasa/

[sinisterpopsicle]

a premise beaten to death, an egg cracked hollow

the first flicker of rage sure, but the sensation of disbelief never left me, not even once. i still sit and talk about death, i think about a girl i knew- forever a sophomore.

singed lace doily, curling up, acrid camera film

my hatred only ever cemented itself into resolve when I was 9 or 10 and had a man drag me into another damned shrine for some damned god he probably didn't believe in

deep-sea baby, ill follow you