join us
{it's free}
already a member?
SIGN IN
home recent triggers submit trigger news  
36540010
halfliter
SEND NOTE
Cornialia just wached as caleb her "friend" ran away back to the line to get his dorm number and schedule. she felt violated by those pigs. she hated them and she made a promise to kill them. she walked up the stairs feeling her throbing lips. she saw the(more)
We got in line to have our stuff searched I saw Caleb stuff his cell phone on
the side of his pocket. "If you want to keep that you better give
it to me" I said motioning for him to hand it over. He handed it
over an(more)
"Cornialia
i just don't under stand why you don't want to go to a bording school."
Fuck off
Corniela thought to herself as
she packed under force of not being able to take her best friend
along. Her best friend was a voodoo doll named Kenis he was (more)
The sands of time were real as AF.
I call in sick to social gatherings.
My dear,

I suck the marrow out and let it settle in my veins. I look great, I'm young and vestal in my imagined meadows. I'm almost dead.
(more)
Look at the Polish people dance. They look like a collection of gaudy baubles and trinkets in an antique parlor. The place is dimly lit with dirty sanguine carpets and steamed linen tablecloths. What comes to mind is something like a Soviet speakeasy in East Berlin.
(more)
It's strange seeing a woman in her thirties playing with dolls. I remember how my cousin gave the nurse a feral look when being prompted to take her medication, only to oblige sweetly and delicately. She wasn't like most nuts and crazies, Samantha. She seemed to keep a solid(more)
on a dark stormy night i sat among the leaves contemplating my palmistry,
hands cracked like wet rivulets through barren earth and me, reading between the lines.

September was a harsh and foreboding awakening, (more)
losing is an art, and i do it exceptionally well
a mindfulness book suggests closing the eyes and focusing on the senses (mainly sight, smell, and touch) when the pangs of mania begin to seep through. "you've gotta nip it in the bud," the author says emphatically. her photograph on the back cover screams granola, cashmere, and the rotary(more)
this tributary is on fire, the saltwater's burning my eyes and i'm treading water. why'd i choose this one? the morning sun is languid on my shell of skin. it drips gentle questions and i give it nothing. it's as if my very cells know that i never asked(more)
"gather up the gold you found, you fool, it's only moonlight," the radio sings. a familiar melody, strumming away on the strip. it's hot out, and everything is sweating.

a barren sky rains down on bloodless crops like one amorphous icicle. the sky is ominous and all knowing(more)
We go lightly into dark with the voracity of hospital patients etherized on tables. How often I've wanted to scream boldly into the night's light, to honor and repent the bright layers of ivory with music, to say "I'm here, I'm awake, you may devour me." We scrape by(more)
Hidden away in the eyes of the world is a faint glimmer, the almost futile banging of flint on stone that occasionally gives way to flame, or the underwater shouting of a sunken, glimmering necklace on the ocean floor. To find it, you'll have to trudge through the frantic(more)