ryan am i coming to see you this weekend


i cant believe i went to the wrong radio station party on friday before i got to the right one. i cant believe i made so many friends


i am so grumpy

Fox News Headcanons

maybe the coen brothers are directing this week of my life


i have had a comically bad week when is my karmic zenith because right now im at its opposite (nadir)


im giggling at the lobster thing. im so silly


bad things that have happened in the past seven days

  1. grandma chris died
  2. got a B on a bio paper I both earned and needed an A on
  3. got caught in a literal tornado on my way to said bio class with the TA that has a weird vendetta against me
  4. my workshop last night was absolute garbage as per usual
  5. did not get my preferred radio timeslot (I got my like 18th choice because I finished training so late, so this one’s my fault I guess)
  6. did I mention my grandma died?
  7. have had a stomach ache for four days
  8. made the mistake of eating five dollar lobster for the third year running
  9. found a hole in my shoe by walking on pebbles like i was a fucking cartoon
  10. this high school I need to be at is closed
i have been vanquished by the unearthly beast known as “school holiday”

Anybody in the college park md area wanna come pick me up from northwestern high school where I’m supposed to be spending my first day shadowing but am instead sitting outside steeped in sadness because no one told me the school was closed. This is like senior skip day and I’m the only person to show the fuck up. Bonus point if you’re a serial killer planning on murdering me

The first time he calls you holy,
you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.
The second time,
you moan gospel around his fingers
between your teeth.
He has always surprised
you into surprising yourself.
Because he’s an angel hiding his halo
behind his back and
nothing has ever felt so filthy
as plucking the wings from his shoulders—
undressing his softness
one feather at a time.
God, if you’re out there,
if you’re listening,
he fucks like a seraphim,
and there’s no part of scripture
that ever prepared you for his hands.
Hands that map a communion
in the cradle of your hips.
Hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
He confesses how long he’s looked
for a place to worship and,
you put him on his knees.
When he sinks to the floor and moans
like he can’t help himself,
you wonder if the other angels
fell so sweet.
He says his prayers between your thighs
and you dig your heels into the base of his spine
until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue.
You will ruin him and he will thank you;
he will say please.
No damnation ever looked as cozy as this,
but you fit over his hips like they
were made for you.
You fit, you fit, you fit.
On top of him, you are an ancient god
that only he remembers and he
offers up his skin.
And you take it.
Who knew sacrifice was so profane?
And once you’ve taught him how to hold
your throat in one hand
and your heart in the other,
you will have forgotten every other word,
except his name.
Ashe Vernon, “PROFANE” (via 5000letters)

i had to translate that famous wang wei poem and i did a really good job im really proud of it


alright im gonna go to my poetry workshop and then watch how to train a dragon for the first time