join us
{it's free}
already a member?
SIGN IN
home recent triggers submit trigger news  
Default
Pomegranates
SEND NOTE
i think about how much youve changed since your sweet sixteen probably far too often. voices in the bottom of my brain squeal about how invasive and creepy and manipulative and obsessive such tendencies might seem. i cant quiet them, but i know im in the right. hes manipulated(more)
the moonlight suffocates the neighborhood; muted colors and elongated sounds in its enormous grip, bats replace birds and small crippled foxes replace the squirrels. the clacking of petrified leaves being skipped along pavement where eons ago children rode squeaky bicycles. the world claws for air. the slow burn. (more)
first ripples; then waves. the motion the effect the consequences growing, compounding, really, akin to interest and interesting it might be, the prehistoric pre-legs of thick salamanders trying to shake off their weightiness in the marbled mud. waves, each packed with minerals vitamins, small segmented supplements of vita(more)
being alive seems a chore; clouds grazing on sunlight that should be mine, my bones, my skin, the fleshy highways in between. the lower half of my brain is screaming for company, but in the winter all sound is swallowed by the weight of the cold. suffer in silence,(more)
hyper-awareness says: im nearly 30 years old and living in my parents home, staring at a world within a computer screen, which, i suppose, is actually within a microchip somewhere, sustained entirely by the garish green and brass squares, wires, dots, bolts that do something my lethargic brain cannot(more)
the way the world becomes muted in a snow laden winter. clear your head. breath becoming visible to remind you that youre alive; youre thinking; youre active; youre not a disappointment; it wasnt your fault; theres hope still. somewhere, buried beneath all that snow.
(more)
i went for a walk to get my mind off things, but in some kind of unconscious treachery, my feet led me to 1) the parking lot where we first kissed 2) a playground where we first fucked in public, 4 p.m. in the afternoon, kids were coming home(more)
i know so little and that reality gnaws at the edges of my being like powerful, toothless jaws many. i see three trees outside the office window and i know that at least one is a different species of tree than the others, but i do not know any(more)
an hour and a half of sleep total, broken up into tiny bite size bits throughout the course of the black and bluish night. the gigantic whistling of the wind shaking the windows every so often, reminding me that my thoughts and i are not the rulers of these(more)
bright white lights on bright white tiles and bright white plastic the sheen of your surroundings is almost too much to bear, but you bear it still. cashiers somewhere (its difficult to see) take your money and your name and your products and tell you "congratulations!"; across a little(more)
a crystalline heart. see through, fragile; every crack and flaw and unnatural bend so very obvious to onlookers and bystanders alike. like liquid it ebbs and flow, the light sent into and out of it somehow musical, humming, a distant choir. a display case three inches thick of bulletproof(more)
dirty teeth plastered with whatever chalky bacterial substance grow in the wet and dark and ever-changing hellscape of a human mouth, where all thoughts linger for a while before invading this sick earth.

sore areas inside the flesh; strained muscles and tendons, strange sleeping positions and an over-worke(more)
in recent hours (days, weeks) ive become less and less concerned with style, etiquette, punctuation, forethought, the tiny pins and needles that help sustain the unraveling fabric construct that is 'respectable' life (bold font, neon lights, an off-white sign). litter thrown out of a speeding car (black or charcoal(more)
the danger of boredom is that in those unassuming hours and minutes and decades and eons of idling away, eroding the hours, passing the time, the habit the inclination the carved slope a line in the sand that leads you me us everyone him her into the dark and(more)
miniature plastic chairs covered in germs; their flimsy legs bending inside out, cracking into thin splintery bits. the kindergarten classroom was a spawning pool for plagues. i told my best friend in the whole wide world that i couldnt wait to get married.
(more)