Ada Limn, FromThe Hurting Kind, In The Hurting Kind

Ada Limón, from “The Hurting Kind,” in The Hurting Kind

[text ID: Before my grandfather died, I asked him what sort / of horse he had growing up. He said, / Just a horse. My horse, with such a tenderness it / rubbed the bones in the ribs all wrong. / I have always been too sensitive, a weeper / from a long line of weepers. / I am the hurting kind. I keep searching for proof.]

VISERYS & DAEMON

a brother named gethsemane, natalie diaz / the brothers karamazov, fyodor dostoevsky / wind-related ripple in the wheatfield, mikko harvey / he ain’t heavy, he's my brother, the hollies

La Morte Vivante - The Living Dead Girl (1982)

lance sweets = britta perry

Diary, you’d think a girl whose mama died in childbirth, whose daddy gave her away to a mean old auntie who beat her ‘cause no one said she couldn’t, who died in a fire but came back by the blood magic of two demons, well, you’d think that girl wouldn’t know what funny was. But you’d be wrong, diary. And if I told you, dumb diary, that that same girl was being raised to kill like her demon parents did, to take two souls a day so she could stay in the same flat-chested, hairless-crotched 14-year-old baby doll body as her mind and spirit turn 19, 20, 25, 63, 358, you dumb, dumb diary, I bet you’d say to anyone who’d listen, “Fun? Fun? How does she even get up in the morning?” Well, let me tell you something, you stuck-up, flower-covered, three-dollar fancy fucking paper diary, I’m doin’ just fine. And how do I know that? ‘Cause the first man I killed called me the devil, and the last boy I killed, the last boy I’ll ever love in the world, called me an angel. So that means I’m on the right path. And that means there’s so much more fun out there to have. I’m just getting started.