Hey Lucifer

Did it hurt?
When you fell from heaven?

The Freaks Come Out at Night

My favorite American Horror Story Quotes thus far:

Season 1. Tate: Hi, I'm Tate. I'm dead. Wanna hookup?

Season 2. Kit: "They weren't humans, they were monsters.

                Sister Jude: "All monsters are human."

Season 3. Police officer: "Are you in charge here?"

                Fiona: "I'm Fiona Goode. I'm in charge everywhere."

Season 4. Girl: "Oh clown, you're so talented, please release us so we can tell the world."

American Horror Story & all its glorious creepiness is the television sensation that by its 4th season, is sweeping the fucking nation! I don't know what got me hooked. The sexy (& constantly inexplicably bent-over) maid in season one? Everything about Evan Peters? I think that... I've always been a huge proponent of all things dark & disturbing, & its really exciting to see that everyone else is, too. I also appreciate when something semi-scary can be a source of fashion inspo to the masses as well. The AHS fandom has sparked its own Mean Girls-esque catchphrase, "on Wednesdays we wear black."

& for most of us, this might be, "on most days we wear black, but on Wednesdays we DEFINITELY wear black." I chose to liven up this monochrome look by playing a lot with texture, because soft & smooth clothes comfort me when I'm sitting on the couch trying not to lose my fucking shit over Twisty the Clown. So I wore this silky silky silky UNIF Alexa romper, that gets tied up in the back with a gauzy, criss-crossed ribbon. Over that I threw a fur stole that I bought as a why-not purchase two years ago from a thrift store on the Eastside. Dirty hair and purple lipstick are optional. (But if you're gonna do dark lips, cyber lipstick by MAC is pretty much the answer to everything.)

UNIF Alexa romper

dollskill.com

urbanoutfitters.com
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You Spent Your Whole Morning Making Me Feel Better

Your bed, the epicenter of my certainty

My love is a miniature beast that sleeps wherever, whenever
A housecat that makes its human question who is master

I wake up to the fur of your face pressed against the back of my neck
You kiss me like the porcelain figurine that I am
You kiss the broken places that you've somehow held together


This will always be the year you knew you could never own me
This year is a photograph highlighting every freckle on my face-
A bowl of pastel valentine sweetheart candy messages
Twinkling matte, tiny hearts stamped with the words, "I'm yours"

And because I am yours, you know what I need
I am a houseplant that you invented, you happy scientist
You have decided it is your job to keep me living
You never told me this, but the knowledge of this breathtaking truth
Is the only thing I have ever felt in my bones
This is the only fact that is buried marrow-deep

Because you know what I need, you take me to get tacos and coffee
Somewhere on the East side you pull out my chair
As if we haven't already gone to eat together 563 times

We sit across from each other, and every time
We look at each other we laugh
Every third time I look at you, I wink
You wink back, and you weren't even able to do this
When I met you

Legends are Born in October

Or something to that effect
Tonight I walked home alone, down
The street and up the hill
And I thought

About the things that don't exist anymore

Command Form

A standing ovation to anyone
Whoever called me crazy, love
Is a fit I need the way I need vodka or whiskey-
Only ever straight up or on the rocks

I am living for the burn in my stomach
Bend me over
Make me cry

Light a candle in the center of my Empty


Separate bone from skin with my serrated
Edge phone calls
My throat whispers to my brain
Via old soup can, old wire
I've been popping all my speech bubbles like sores
Just to see what kind of green my disgust is

And my seismograph tongue creaks, connected
To my selectively mute esophagus

I am an umbrella opened in the hall
My heart is the mirror you can't stop breaking
I'm not the kind of daydream that will hold you on Christmas-
Eve, or otherwise

Radiant and Caffeinated Sigh

This is a dream about Harlem
This is me listening to Miles Davis on a cracked laptop
Breathing as still as a glass of water

Plastic aqua cup I took from your roommate
Three years ago
In the house that I read in, cooked in
The bedroom where I fell asleep during Lolita
Because there are nights that I can't handle
The feel of black and white

When I'm tired, I tend to see things:
My intentions, my trespasses against my throat
I bury my face in the grave
Of my hands, flashbacks of what I've forced down
Of what I've forced up

Of what I've forced with you

Let's talk about my hips, that you praise
Let's talk about your shoulders, ever perennial
Even when you didn't have to

Nine seasons to a sitcom
The soundtrack to our trembling
A fistful of sanity in my left hand
Gratitude in the other