math rock // high-concentration mental illness // eastern euro brutalism // online lit // tennis // survival horror // catching the big fish // antifa // looking certain but not being sure // post post-whatever // magical realism // an evergreen is forever green until it's dead

they should invent hotel continental breakfast for your house

recent sex dream turned into some sort of marina abramovic horror workshop situation and im not happy about it

daylight doesn't need saving

i want to play in soil like a little bug

i keep thinking that if i loved my body i would sell it, but that's probably not true

underneath my boyish rage, a sadness and a loneliness

this world grosses me out

the masculine urge to punch a wall stifled by european construction

growing up i thought a bow and arrow would be a much more prominent part of my day-to-day

damn sometimes it's really not that fun seeing suicide references all over the internet

huge

sometimes i forget how a lot of guys gooned through covid, while i experienced unprecedented natural disasters that permanently affected my brain chemistry to the point that i don't know how to process fear anymore

need a boy best friend to make a mixtape for

my plan is to put together a poetry manuscript next year

looking to make some matters worse

i don't actually have any lovers or romantic interests or crushes or flings or muses or obsessions or affairs or attachments or

hope is a dangerous thing for a white monster like me to have

so what if my dick smells like terre d'hermes