MOST EMBARRASSING excerpts from love letters, sexts, notes on crushes, and heartbreak poems NOT INTENDED FOR THE SPECTATORIAL GAZE
what great grift that my liver should swell with the sight of thee
i have had a wet dream about you every night this week
i’m skeptical about the longevity of our thing. we fundamentally don’t understand each other. love is never ever enough; it’s a shitty adhesive: it has bad binding properties.
loving you is hard because you’re ugly
dusting off my ass as you speak
it’s relentless, you say
and i’m lying here in this strange house naked
nipples erect and painful
i scoured the temporary tattoos off them
with an abrasive object
(“outlaw” in western font
with a skull and crossbones)
we had joked that my tits were now named
“the outlaws”
a man’s titties
as if chasing after another star
i had the most insanely hot dream about you last night
you were fucking me from behind and licking my pussy at the same time which somehow worked because it was written in dream logic
i went to my room to jerk off and i
i would think of you every time i saw the yellow truck parked by the airport
i would hope it was you
i would hope it was a harbinger that i would see you again soon
i would chastise myself for magical thinking
you like the line about lovable cowards because you can tell it’s about yourself
this whole thing of sex is so dense and insurmountable
i am no longer interested in romantic partnership — let me rephrase — i am aggressively uninterested, perhaps even opposed to it as a practice altogether.
do i have the right to a human body?
i have been so sorry lately
for this, for that
all things
i’m getting wet thinking about the way you call me baby when we’re fucking
you know when you have two crushes that both loom large
and whoever you’ve fucked most recently becomes your number one crush
and they swap back and forth for a while until at some point the number two crush ceases to even register
and then youre in big trouble
i hope we never see each other again so i can keep being in love with you without any of the pain of being around you
being with you is like a masterclass in being a human… but i lack the fortitude to not have a total breakdown… it hurts too much to be this in love with you and be around you… i still havent figured out what to do with my feelings of being in love… used to be they propelled me in the direction of being with someone in a certain capacity which i am no longer interested in… now i still get the feelings but dont know what to do with them
but why cant we be like we’re still friends and i care abt u so lets hang out.. it’s too easy to fall in love, too easy to get bored, and no one seems too concerned with enacting care for each other beyond the boredom…i’m guilty of it too…why do we have to recoil and be disgusted by those we used to love…it is a failure of the imagination, a failure of the skin, of the structures that hold and bind us
ever since ***** dumped me i cry every time i cum
it’s not weird
only a little
material
i can’t seem to find one thing
this is not immaterial
not one material thing to grasp on to
to like someone is immaterial
to be liked by someone is immaterial
to be bad is immaterial
to be good is immaterial
to be adored by one’s public is immaterial
there is only grass
and stones
a bubbling creek
the mountains
(to be in love is not only immaterial but also fake—
in a sea of fake things
it’s the fakest thing)
i’m jealous of his other lovers
i want him to be as obsessed with me as i am with him
i am contributing to an atmosphere of chaos
i see the star logo on a semi
think about getting it tattooed on my ass
our generation is one obsessed by semiotics
need i explain further?
i have in the past and sometimes still now
derived my self worth from sexual desirability to others
a fact i don’t like to admit
but now i am in the business of admitting things
stab myself with needles to cleave close to truth but it leans away
truth the asymptote, white-armed, cavernous
so many propositions rest on words, unceasing ladders of words
i want a proposition that rests on nothing but the cold earth
and yet i don’t desist in using words to try to get there
i’m a buffoon
i would be better served by laying my body down upon the cold earth
a failed anarcho-primitivist
funny still to put a name to something which decries naming
i’m too self-conscious around you because i want you to find me attractive
i can’t let them love me because then they’ll have won
nothing feels as good as driving away from love
driving 12, 14, 16 hours away from love
nothing feels as good as driving away from love
nothing on this whole flat earth
requited love is a hellscape
it’s hard not to be heartbroken over someone you’re in love with especially when they’re in love with you too
the person i fucked last night kept calling me beautiful
but beauty is immaterial and i’m exhausted
talking about what holes theyre gonna put it in
yawn, i’m bored
you are the most unacademically anticapitalist person i know and it’s incredibly sexy
r******
i think about you every time i make myself cum
last month it was h*****
i thought about r****** while k*** was trying to make me cum
when i was with r*** i thought about h*****
when i was with c**** i thought about a***
when i was with a*** i thought about c**** and also r***
i have alienated friends with my loyalty to avowal
i’m a clown
i’m a pup
waiting for his footfalls
there’s something deeply pathological about our interactions
i have a Fucked up and maladaptive view of romantic love
i cant help but exculpate you in my heart because i cant bear the hypocrisy of holding you to account for things that i could be guilty of as well,,, i could fall in love with a doorknob.. or any kind of “bad person” because i am bad too and its far too easy to see the humanity in someone…
there is nothing at the end of an embrace, just like there is nothing at the end of time
i get hungry watching your knees do the work of a thousand villagers
i drool on myself absentmindedly
all the phenomenology of sharing a lover like their smell in their bed their clothes on their floor etc etc
one of the sweetest things u ever said to me was when i was sad and you were listing all the ways you were there for me and one of them was “and if you just need me to fuck you silly i can do that”
my crush’s personality: funny and sweet
my crush’s character: spineless opportunist hypocrite with no sense of personal responsibility or accountability
other crush: sycophant enough to make u barf
i have done nothing to deserve love, which is why i am suspicious of it
my crush to me: disgusting vibes sir
me to my crush: why thank you
then we kiss
when lovers lie to me i cant help but forgive them because truth is hard to find and even harder to know
you’re the dreamiest… i dont know what parts of my feelings for you are love and what parts are infatuation but i like to imagine that love runs all the way from the beginning to the end and the infatuation is a minor redundancy, a small cushion in certain areas… i’m more than happy to love you from afar for the rest of time but it’s been an immense privilege to get to love you up close
it’s hard to remember being in love with someone when theyre so far up your ass you can smell their breath in ur throat. ive never wanted to run away from someone at the same time as running towards them this much ever in my life
big virgo moon energy is when u enjoy sex but would gladly forego it just to never again have to suffer the indignity of waking up next to someone
when i catch you looking up my skirt are you thinking about fucking me? i appreciate the thickness of your wrists
wanting is better than having
slide your breath inside me like a dog howling to jupiter beckoned by its true name
i would like to poke my fingers
into your two beautiful eyes
i can’t help it.
they call u clownfooted delia
sex is the most prosaic thing like a tissue until you don’t have it for a while and then suddenly it’s much more than a tissue
i havent been this heartbroken since i was a teenager (i always think that). how could i have been this in love without noticing, and i wonder if this is god punishing me for recycling nudes
the cashier has a memorial tattoo “boo” in old english who died in 2010, i too can hardly bear to breathe with melanie and will gone
i fall in love with the people who remind me of her and have unsatisfying sex with everyone else
i think of the old honky tonks
after work off route 59
the methhead in front of me in line will be there, her breath on the back of my neck making my pussy wet, stringy greasy purple hair redolent of shitty tobacco and bath and body works body spray, i hate myself for romanticizing the perceived misery in suburban life, i must secretly think im better than them to covet their abjection and i hate myself for my secret judgments
i’ve cried in my truck in two dollar store parking lots and heading towards a third to round out the evening. dollar store where u try to spend a dollar to feel better and
it sometimes works. not going to tonight
i consider fucking the emo hesher in the staind t shirt buying instant rice
his tattoos are charmingly cliche
dick looks good in those sweatpants
cheeks covered in acne scars
i wonder how he smells:
birds and small intestines
wet food
here in the dingy fluorescent elegy of dollar tree on the oft-puked-upon carpet im so frail a fruit fly just flew at me and i flinched and hit out heavy at the air with my open fist
another parking lot, more tears, another dollar store, another methhead
hair also stringy and greasy like a tar pit
dried out from bleach yet greasy
like i imagine tar sands to be
love handles charmingly bulging out from under a stained marvin the martian harley davidson t shirt
i think about how easy it would be to fall in love with her
like nothing
nothing at all
krylon cans 50% off
that’s good
love dogs take no repose
ur bootyhole was almost too rank for me to lick. a week’s worth of accumulated ball sweat, fermenting
you’re the one i have loved more than even i could love
sweetish pet names for lovers
butt chunggis and the gang
my left titty is butt chunggis
and the bigger one is the gang
manal kara//@slug_body_hoe