What an ungrateful week-ender: stomach-knotting and heart-rotting. Her bronze skin metamorphosing into a scarred porcelain of pallid tint. Her blood streaming into an anaemic black hole. Most importantly, her brain denaturing into inter-neurotic glitches.
Sophistication was her description. Illusion is her delusion. Wankers, wankers: she likes the innumerable times this was cussed on those teenage telly screens. She also likes the visible fingerprints on her dust-covered jalousies. She eats crackers of dolour and wafers of toil. And then she vomits inside-out, regurgitates her insides out.
She needs the sun.
She needs to succumb.
She needs her planetarium.
She needs a sanitarium.
What's that smell?
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ʎonqʎʇıɔ
said...
March 1, 2010 at 4:33 AM
"She needs the sun."
there's plenty of that to spare. 92 degrees kaya nung friday.
ps followed u sa twitter na rin. :D
there's plenty of that to spare. 92 degrees kaya nung friday.
ps followed u sa twitter na rin. :D
VICTOR
said...
March 1, 2010 at 6:57 AM
Usually, the insane knows they're insane. Because they cannot help it. So who needs a sanitarium? LOL.
Eяin Heяoin
said...
March 1, 2010 at 9:59 AM
@Citybuoy:
Hahaha, literally, over na talaga sa sun. Pero di kasi lumalabas ng bahay eh. :))
Thanks for following. :)
Hahaha, literally, over na talaga sa sun. Pero di kasi lumalabas ng bahay eh. :))
Thanks for following. :)
Eяin Heяoin
said...
March 1, 2010 at 10:00 AM
@Victor:
I've always thought that the insane doesn't know they are deranged. This is a constant battle of my own neurons.
Thanks for joining my blogger. :)
I've always thought that the insane doesn't know they are deranged. This is a constant battle of my own neurons.
Thanks for joining my blogger. :)
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* originally published on Stache Magazine * Melanie Martinez started taking pictures when she was 13 years young. She is a self-taught p...
Erratum: Desideratum
What an ungrateful week-ender: stomach-knotting and heart-rotting. Her bronze skin metamorphosing into a scarred porcelain of pallid tint. Her blood streaming into an anaemic black hole. Most importantly, her brain denaturing into inter-neurotic glitches.
Sophistication was her description. Illusion is her delusion. Wankers, wankers: she likes the innumerable times this was cussed on those teenage telly screens. She also likes the visible fingerprints on her dust-covered jalousies. She eats crackers of dolour and wafers of toil. And then she vomits inside-out, regurgitates her insides out.
She needs the sun.
She needs to succumb.
She needs her planetarium.
She needs a sanitarium.
What's that smell?
Sophistication was her description. Illusion is her delusion. Wankers, wankers: she likes the innumerable times this was cussed on those teenage telly screens. She also likes the visible fingerprints on her dust-covered jalousies. She eats crackers of dolour and wafers of toil. And then she vomits inside-out, regurgitates her insides out.
She needs the sun.
She needs to succumb.
She needs her planetarium.
She needs a sanitarium.
What's that smell?
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erin emocling
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Born in the mid-80s, Erin Herøin is a marveller of non-sequitur writing, cinematic films, & analogue photography.
Before, she used to be an aspiring physician; now, she is a newbie bassist who has 5.50/5.00 eyes & black tattoos on her right arm.
She's the former chief editor of Lomography's international magazine, the founder of Whilst We Wait, & the author of Paranoirexia.
Today, she curates and directs Parallel Planets, an online publication on creatives worldwide.
She dwells in the Eastern border of Manila with her pet pussies.
Before, she used to be an aspiring physician; now, she is a newbie bassist who has 5.50/5.00 eyes & black tattoos on her right arm.
She's the former chief editor of Lomography's international magazine, the founder of Whilst We Wait, & the author of Paranoirexia.
Today, she curates and directs Parallel Planets, an online publication on creatives worldwide.
She dwells in the Eastern border of Manila with her pet pussies.
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Sorry, but this site is currently unavailable.
Erin
"She needs the sun."
ReplyDeletethere's plenty of that to spare. 92 degrees kaya nung friday.
ps followed u sa twitter na rin. :D
Usually, the insane knows they're insane. Because they cannot help it. So who needs a sanitarium? LOL.
ReplyDelete@Citybuoy:
ReplyDeleteHahaha, literally, over na talaga sa sun. Pero di kasi lumalabas ng bahay eh. :))
Thanks for following. :)
@Victor:
ReplyDeleteI've always thought that the insane doesn't know they are deranged. This is a constant battle of my own neurons.
Thanks for joining my blogger. :)