a counter perspective of the american eagle jean ad

my jeans have a stain on them, a reminder that someone before me wore them. passed down. i fit into other people's memories as much as they fit in mine. i believe clothes hold more memories than hair. whether it is through a random stranger or a shirt your mother wore in her late teens that has been passed around like a blunt.

deteriorating converse with knotted laces

tomorrow is:
passing notes between peers
the ticking of a clock
soaking in the sun on the bleachers
pencils breaking under the force of fingers
eyeing your classmate from across the room
tangled headphones
wishing you were somewhere else
chewing bubblegum
the constant humming of the bus

god?

 high tide threatens to devour the sidewalk that cracks under my shoes. 

the sea swallows the sun, births the moon in blood that bathes the sky—a gruesome resurection every night.

 

-stupid girl that fears space like she fears god

about a girl - nirvana

 if looks could kill you'd just be a whore. love, your ex's girlfriend!

(p.s this is literally about a girl named nirvana—im clever aren't i?)