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Followers
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Following
Wounded Child Prostitute
I like some people so much, their whole way, and being, that I can't say a word for fear of wrecking it. So if you see me standing across the room, not looking, I'm probably in love with you. Damaged, benzo surfer...
Currently reading
Why We Love Sociopaths: A Guide To Late Capitalist Television
Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies
The Enormous Room
Uses for Boys
Elizabeth Bathory: A Memoire: As Told by Her Court Master, Benedict Deseo
The Price of Inequality: How Today's Divided Society Endangers Our Future
Nausea (New Directions Paperbook)
Another that seeped into my cellular structure in a cafe while I chat up my former and future existences, concurring on all what consisted of being and nothingness there around them in my blood, my cells, my bones and then finally when they got up to leave, I left the world too...behind. I didn't look back, I've never felt a loss. It's only one big question mark really. And it is divine, putrid, heavy on the shoulders, and makes love to you in the night in your dreams, nightmares if they are such, and that is that. This is the second book I'd bring to the island. If it weren't offered, well, I'd use the knife. See: http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/573163062
