T A I N T.

[sordidis-blog]

                                           catch    me       here    !

[drowngrief]

 customary   to   remain   sylphine    &    lithe   in   execution   of   each   movement ,      timbre   that   falls   upon  due   lacunas   identified   without   hassle   as   deceptively   mellisonant   /   honey - drenched   /   SACCHARINE    ;        statuvolism   has   become   your   forte ,    a   game   played   with   deft   hand ,     &   collection   of   well - kept   secrets   to   success   reside   upon   your   sleeve    in   place   of   your    heart ,    a   faint   aureate   glimmer   behind   self - constructed   carapace .     however ,    events   have  a   funny   way   of   unfolding   to   unmask   TITANIUM   as   porcelain ,    to   send   long - constructed   walls   crumbling   after   lifetime   of   strenuous   laboring .     and   for   what   –––– - - -   ?   

 A   SHATTERED   EUCATASTROPHE    –––––   CHAOS   ENSUES   !      blindly   do   staves   run   together ,  line   after   line   blurred ,    BLEEDING   into   the   next   ;     a   queen   bound   to   the   moment   by  sharp   breaths   &   burning   gazes ,    dethroned   by   the   irrepressible    /    by   flash   of   light   against    silver ,     poised   to   cut   away   any   trace   of   lost   nonpareils   (  oh ,   my   friends ,   forgive   me  )   /   by   the    MORASS   and   the   MASSES   and   the   mercilessness   of   it   all .   so   what   do   you   do   ?                         you   breathe   in ,    breathe   out .    allow   yourself   a   moment’s   catharsis ,                                           ––––––––   - - -    AND     THEN     YOU     REBUILD .     

         (     independent .    selective .    semi - private   BROOKE   MADDOX   of   mtv’s   SCREAM .     )                                                                            penned   by   nicki .

[sordidis-blog]

hi   there   !       just   popping   in   to   let   you   all   know   that   tate   is   on   indefinite   hiatus   and   i’m   OVER   HERE   !     

[conqueste-blog]

 i   prayed   for   the   DEATH   of   HEATHER   CHANDLER   many   times,   and   i   felt   BAD   every   time   i   did   it,    but   i   kept   doing   it   anyway.   now   i   know   you   understood   EVERYTHING.    praise jesus,   HALLELUJAH   !                 (   ind.   sel.   HEATHER   DUKE.   penned   by   nicki.   )

[sordidis-blog]

             OBRUMPENCE.  hey hi hello everyone.  i’m just checking in to tell y’all that i’ll probably be on a  FULL HIATUS  until  MID-APRIL  or possibly early may.      school is crazy and next to normal is still in  rehearsals,     but i have no intention of leaving tate and   WILL BE BACK   as soon as time permits.        i seriously miss you all so much,  and can’t wait to be back fully.

[sordidis-blog]

              OBRUMPENCE.    when your follower count is at 666.

[sordidis-blog]

“I have the feeling that I’m being watched.”

                   splintered planks wail beneath combined mass,  splitting the stillness of the basement into hopeless fragments   –––––   mindless curiosity has led to exploration that the specter doubts will satiate present company   ( hence,  the reason for hint of smirk that lingers upon lineaments but remains shrouded by blackness in poor light ).   ❛   you might not be too far off.   ❜   it is a suggestion designed to tumefy reservations and intrigue simultaneously,  for though the other forges pathways,  both parties know which is to  LEAD  and which is to  FOLLOW.  undeniably thrawn is temperament and errant are actions,  resulting in featherlight brush of back of hand against form,  a movement not meant to express  PRURIENCE  as much as to elicit shivers.   ❛   don’t tell me you haven’t heard the  STORIES  about this place   –––––   that’s a load of bullshit.   ❜

[lemalheur-blog]

                                                         she lets out a low, rumbling sigh, which sounds more akin to some animalistic growl than anything else, but she doesn’t bother to filter it. boredom bit at her like an obnoxious mosquito which she was unable to kill or guide away from her no-longer-warm & likely unappetizing blood. ‘ i feel the most dreadful when the sun’s out. why did i have to get stuck in CALIFORNIA. of all places – ’ with a sort of violent movement, she swipes at her nose, tending to some phantom itch, or perhaps just for the sake of tossing herself around in some miniscule way.

[sordidis-blog]

                    ❛   sounds to me like your  best option  is to shut yourself inside,  then.   ❜    as if either of the two had any choice in the matter.  no intention has he to make any attempt to  AMELIORATE  such a situation,  for more time than she has the teenager been a resident of the infamous structure,  a whispered tale of caution tinged with uncertainty among passers-by as skittish glances are aimed through fractured panes of discoloured glass before gazes are  FORCED  elsewhere      ( if you do not believe,  what is it that you search for ? ).   something of a twisted laugh,  touched with bitterness that he bothers not to conceal,  mingles with white noise.   ❛   for fuck’s sake,  stop your  B I T C H I N G.   ❜

[sladosty]

[untrustyou]

[untrustyou]

Lisa Lindvay

[starredsoul]

the throat after the scream, bloody, ripped raw— i know, i know, i’ve been there. i’ve called it home. pressing the thumb to the bruise to see if it hurts— because it hurts, because i want to be the only cause of my pain.  i could tell you stories  about losing control of the body, about my skin not being my own. how it’s all nothing until it’s the mouth stuffed fast with cotton, and the limbs pulled clean off and a mouth on your mouth that you can’t see.

Emily Palermo, UNFORGIVEN.  (via starredsoul)

[femmefatale]

        Natacha was in a hallway of the streets, God! She look awful, she was craving for BLOOD, and she couldn’t help but had to KILL the easiest TARGET, the hobos breathless, with all blood falling in the corner of her LIPS, she heard a FOOTSTEPS, her sense is PRETTY GOOD, especially when she is descendant of Blood Virus, she was on top of an old man, when she look behind her hands and arms ‘gloved’ of BLOOD.

Yes, she knew there WAS a person behind of her, certainly it wasn’t her husband but – a stranger, she LOOK at the curious THING with curiosity, raising an eyebrow.

                          “You haven’t saw ANYTHING.”

[sordidis-blog]

                    ❛   .   .   .   except for you  ON TOP  of that guy  –––––  ?   ❜    assumed unease is regarded as toy,  a mere plaything to be poked and prodded at as incomplete response hangs in air   ( as does uncertain promise of possible answer,  dangled tauntingly above the head of the woman,  just out of reach ).                    ❛   NOTHING.   ❜    with amusement does untruth slip from behind tiers of rapscallion  ––––––  not once had intent to play witness to such peculiar activity acted as obstacle to train of thought   ( though,  truth be told,  ‘tis a machine that possessor often lacks   C O N T R O L   over ),  and,  after all,  it is not  HIS FAULT  that he happened to stumble upon semi-controlled entropy.   hint of smirk twists corner of raw lips skywards after a moment’s time,  brows lifting with deriding quip.    ❛   but you might wanna try  CLEANING UP  after yourself next time.  if you don’t want people to know the  FUCKED UP SHIT  you’re into.   ❜   

[urscs-deactivated20151217]

               SHE’S TIRED  chest heaving as  [ limping ]  steps are taken to wrecked stairs, aching fingers turning & pushing on the doorknob. a glance is tossed behind her shoulder, followed immediately by her entire form falling onto cold wood.    ❛  ———-  HELLO ?? ❜    syllables are spoken with cautious tones, the woman scrambling to her feet. moves slowly, she does, taking baby steps throughout the hall & looking behind her every time she heard a sound.  (  one would  BELIEVE  for her to turn to salt ;  alas !  she had no urge to return to her sodom.  )   

[sordidis-blog]

                    scuffling of soles against wooden planks registers as no new sound to ears,  and it is certain that fellow inhabitants have heard as well,  for though the  FRACAS  from outside of cracked-open doors is not wholly tonant,  the walls are thin.  each inch of grandiose living space has served as  SETTING  for scenes that twisted minds cannot categorize as  REALITY  or  PHANTASMAGORIA   ( bringing a bizarre high to perpetrator,  victim,  and mindless investigators ),  coercing each interloper to arrive at specific question.          ❛   you looking for someone ?   ❜    other’s call continues in its reverberating when self-appointed interrogator appears  ;   ah, but should one attempt to shift roles,  it is  GAME OVER.   ❛   or do you just have a  DEATH WISH  or something ?   ❜

[kisouu]

Evan Peters » Max Cooperman

[killervagiina-archive-blog]

         REPETITIVE was the lull of a school day, regardless where one was for the aforementioned “activity”. as a wise man once said, every high school is the same, the only difference is the LOCKER COMBINATIONS. ( of course, zoe knew WELL ENOUGH that she’d just jacked that from a movie. ) yet it did hold truths to it, as this was the third one she’d been to in her entire high school career- good old WESTFIELD HIGH- and it had only become easier to predict what kind of monstrosity lay behind closed doors, or concealed by the painted lips and flashing grins of the fellow student body. quietly she would shuffle along down these halls, light brown hues fixated either on the schedule tucked against her chest or the numbers plastered to the doors.

finally though it would be that life would finally grant her a BREAK, and now it was that she was situated in a seat in the library, books scattered around her. currently her gaze was focused on an assignment she’d received just a few classes before. SOME would call it OVERACHIEVING. zoe, however, called it doing her homework at school so she didn’t have to do it at home. slim digits are curled tightly around a pencil, and they pull the writing utensil across a nearly blank slate, one that was only marred by the pale lines of direction that DARE etch themselves across the leaflet. it seemed as though her ENTIRE focus was fixated on the task at hand, despite the murmurings that reverberated around her. it was easy enough to pretend she was alone, or INVISIBLE at the very least, since that’s what she would find herself occupying her time doing just at that very moment.

[sordidis-blog]

                    delicate ossein meets semi-resilient tendon beneath layers of plumage to create mere portion of structure that possesses a beautiful sort of intricacy  ;    from coracoid to humerus to ulna,  each has its designated,  individual purpose that allows telos to be achieved when all operate as one.  FREEDOM  found in initial rush of air beneath wings,  even most mininal dosage of  ADRENALINE  propels avian into streaked cirrus sprent and strewn across infinite expanse of firmament.  and blame cannot be cast upon free-flier for utilizing given asset,  nor for permitting surge of epinephrine to do its job  ––––––  unfortunate souls that remain upon earth’s surface   ( TAINTED  and  TARNISHED  beyond repair,  such truths are just as clear to the eye that aims its gaure between the clouds )   become infinitesimal as distance between the self and the  WRECKAGE  left behind increases by the minute,  by the mile.  what a marvel,  what a wonder  ––––  !   very marrow that carries being above treetops and far from multitudinous troubles can be split in the blink of an eye,  exquisite bone  SNAPPED  and  SHATTERED  with limited strength.                             (  but alas,  two-dimensional depictions printed in ink upon pristine pages are                                incapable of allowing the same escape  ––––  you are no  DAEDULUS,  you                                cannot      construct      pair      of       wings      to       flee      from      tsuris.  )                       and so cover of hardback will be shut with near inaudible rustling of aged binding,  volume set upon tabletop with sigh that pushes past lips before gaze finds itself roving to opposite end of table.  oculi narrow slightly,  minute interest in activity the stone thrown to fracture silence’s verglas.  ❛   nice here  –––––  quiet.  not as awful as the  REST OF THE PLACE  .   .   .   you  draw  or something ?   ❜ 

[kisouu]

[feltshame-deactivated20151214]

dim street lights   flicker   above. a leather jacket donned adam   walking   to his car. car keys   clash   together with his movements. the boy notices a very   SKETCHY    boy. ❛  hey — ❜ he greets, doesn’t really   want   to strike up a conversation — but his father always taught him to be polite.

[sordidis-blog]

                    vacant comportments irradiated by moribund bulb,  aliens tread upon cracked asphalt cooled by set stygian,  for scalding rays of sun overhead  TAKE REIGN  for majority of granted twenty-four hours  –––––  if only ever-fleeting seconds and their agonizingly prolix stretching on could fly past in the bat of an eyelash  as previous generation lingers upon in  SELF-PITY  –––––  but thermal extremities are transferred to whirring  mind and flawed sclera when hours of night creep up on earth’s temporary denizens.  scuffling about of  strangers has been  AMPLIFIED  by error of own mistetch,  substance-induced paranoia rattling smoking  stub that dangles from betwixt fingers as pupils flick upwards when metallic clang reaches ears.                                                                         ❛   ––––––––––    .    .    .    WHAT ?   ❜