#gnashing

[krukel]

puppy ear bojan save me

save me

save me puppy bojan

[scrivnomancer]

Goodnight out there, whatever you are.

[boghag-after-dark]

I need to bite and boy i need to bite a boy I need to bite a boy I need to bite a boy I need to bite a boy I need to bite a boy I need to bite a boy I need-

[gnarledgnashing]

and skinned knees

sometimes the spark between us is spiked like your jacket, your whole self electric barbs

and sometimes they pierce me and someone says, wait 

and sometimes they snare me and someone says, more

and neither of us are eloquent enough to do anything about it.

.

and someday you are going to forge your barbs into muzzle and tie to keep me restrained

because without leash or lead or bridle i would follow my feelings and feet and thoughts and fingers through the fields 

and back to you, knocking you over

and over again

and we would tumble down all limbs and laughter 

(and other L words)

and it would be a long time before we would get back up

.

and i cant let that happen

i know you hate grass stains.

[jeff-a-klena]

Gnashing by Jeff Klena

Digital Art

JAK 01-19-2021 x4

[captiveape]

Gnashing; Photoshop ink/paint, Day 925 of Chimp A Day. . . . #gnashing #chimpanzee #illustration #photoshop #cartoon #characterdesign #digitalart #animalart #animalkingdom #portrait #artoftheday #illustratorsoninstagram #instaart #instagood #daily #ape #digitalpainting #ink #GreatApe https://www.instagram.com/p/B66lWMKg42N/?igshid=14izj0y1hk4bn

[brandongeurts]

Face God and Walk Backwards Into Hell. 2019.

Ink wash and pen on paper.

[gnarledgnashing]

biting out my soul at 3 in the morning when i shouldn’t be driving

I miss you like a sore fucking tooth. Like something that's cracked to down the middle, and rotten; but i know the minute it’s pulled i’ll cry for the loss.

I miss you like I miss falling while playing tag as a kid, because each tumble was new and unexpected, and this is new and unexpected, and the bruises are the same sort of pretty (and new and unexpected), but they still hurt.

I miss you like the old familiar ache in my knees when I know that I've worn my platforms too long. I miss you like the way i sweat in my parka when the bite of the cold is sharp enough that i know it’d make you swear at me, so you turn back and i go on and we both wish you were walking at my side.

I miss you like I miss the burned-down house of my childhood, the charcoal mess that shapes old familiar traumas now made into shadows by the lickings of fire and time, but I also miss you like my favorite warm sweater - threadbare in places but still soft and sure when I need it to be. I miss you like my blanket growing up. Not enough to cover more than just a piece of me now, but still important.

I miss you like I miss the burn of my lungs as I fought to stay underwater during competition, trying not to want to breathe. And I guess that means I miss you like breathing, too, which is kind of disgusting.

And I didn't want to write poetry about you, and I still don't, but I'm bitter and angry about the shape of you in my life, the bloody socket you leave behind when you are extracted, the ache that sits in my mouth and my gut with the taste of copper on my tongue.

But I don’t want you to be entangled in my existence the way lovers do, the way lovers dream. I don’t want to fuck you or feel your skin under my fingers or hear you gasping for more. I don’t want to see your narrow hips bared in the moonlight of my living room. I don’t want to watch you dance, and the idea of you making sultry eyes at me makes my stomach hurt. But I also don’t want to watch you watch someone else with that hunger in your eyes.

So I won’t watch you at all.

But I do love you, in anger and hatred and disgust, I love you the way I love every obstacle life has ever given me. I love how you challenge me without even trying to challenge me, I love how I want to be just as fascinating to you as you are to me, and how I want to be as good as - better than! - in everything that you do that we share, because I see how brilliantly you shine.

And I know my shine is different, and I'm glad that my sparkle is nothing like yours because it means we contrast each other so well, me a brilliant cheerful bubbly - whatever - by day, and you a dark brooding sharp-witted  - whatever - by night, and you shaped like the moon and me shaped like the sun, and we do dance, while also dutifully ignoring each other in the moments that we don’t share the sky. but that's too much like real poetry and I don't want to write real poetry about you; i don't want to write poetry about you at all, but I'm doing it anyway, because I gotta get it out of my soul, like the sharp shards of memory that I’m excavating from my brainpan as I learn what it means to have a sore tooth like you, in my life. Irreplaceable, exhausting. But I need you to help me chew through the meat of this world, else I’ll bite my lips bloody and then who will care that I’m here?