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roots.under layers of graveyard dirt and rainwater her heart lies soaking up that thick new orleans voodoo hot like saturated summer and spanish moss, rum laced with twenty one chili peppers.roots.
she told me it just wouldnt stop beating when I first met her, sprawled in the devil's mouth alleyways of the lower ninth ward.
her irises were wilted red she had gris-gris hung like bells around her waist knotting together as she shook her hips to that slick, sweet, poisonous sound
of the ouanga jazz music echoing where her heart might once have been before it s
by ~theawkwardbox
crookedIf my body is a map to far off placescrooked
Is home really a person or just predestination?
All the trouble in the souls of my shoes is meant for you.
And if some days you’d rather drink than think is it fine
If I wait out the rainy season on the outskirts of my mind?
And even though my teeth are crooked
It still stands that I’m smiling for you
by ~theawkwardbox
holy water in a hotel roomMotel Six off the exit in a thunderstorm- I can't say that I’ve ever been much for communicating with the dead But I’ve tapped a telegraph into the rotting drywall between usholy water in a hotel room
An Ouija board of splotchy mold and water spots Marching to the faltering beat of a thunder accented torrent Rain meant for nothing more than feeding the gutter and the decaying carpet I’m tapping a telegraph into the rotting drywall I could slide a finger through and close the distance between us Or slide another twenty questions between the space.
by ~theawkwardbox
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"You are an emotionally crippled narcissist who is soaking in what, by now, has to be mostly your own urine."
"... I believe the ratio shifted that way, yes."
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"You are an emotionally crippled narcissist who is soaking in what, by now, has to be mostly your own urine."
"... I believe the ratio shifted that way, yes."
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