rip your gums open and bleed into a wire. brush the exposed bones in your face so they don't discolor. keep the rot out. it will do everything to get inside you. keep it out. you have to keep it out, or your bones will fall out of your face, and we will replace it with metal.
just a reminder that I'm a loser and this is my only and main account where anything and everything goes so be prepared to lose any sense of respect you may have mistakenly had for me if you follow me.
tomorrow I will talk vehemently about the failures of american dental care.
she is a cat. if she lays on me, I'm obligated to stay in that position for the next three hours. if I move even an inch, she'll wake up and run away. if this happens, I have no choice but to die on my own sword.
it makes so much sense that stars are older than storches and that storches are often paired with older stars because I think most people who identify with storch are (initially fiery but) eventually beat to death by life and end up developing star mentality (being chill)
my skin her canvas, red blooming over lines that started nervous and grew eager. her hands shook at first, knife jittering in her sweaty palms, but the cuts grew confident, her gaze transfixed, the firelight dancing against her concentration. She painted me, the pain her love.
lots of cocks out for blexas and the blappalachians today. keep it up moots. (said encouragingly and passively positive, as a mom would cheer a soccer team)
heart was broken working for security and realizing it's actually just "wave and smile at people who make more money than you" and not "sit in a spooky place like a fucking videogame npc who gets farmed for XP"
man what kind of back alley bullshit do I need to do to avoid security corps and just be some back alley fucking joe schmoe standing at the door of an abandoned building for 12 hours a day and get paid under the table for it