Sunday, May 15, 2016


Higher than a motherfucker, dreamin' of you, as my lover. Flying like a screamin' falcon, only way to do each other. Pull out the incisor, give me two weeks, you won't recognize her. Mouth open, you're high. I know it hurts. You know, I'd put you first. I can fuck you better than her. You say you want me, I say you'll live without it, unless you're the only one who instigates.

How did she taste?

Feel your body closin', I can rip it open
Suck me up, I'm healin' for the shit you're dealin'
Smoke on the skin to get those pretty eyes rollin'
My thighs are apart for when you're ready to breathe in
Suck me up, I'm healin' for the shit you're dealin'
High, motherfucker, got your mouth open, you know you're mine

Friday, May 13, 2016


Look in your phone contacts. Pick out any two random 25-year-olds. Tell me what they’re both doing with their lives. Chances are that one of them is spending most nights scrounging around on Facebook for a good electronica show where they can get in for less than five dollars and hopefully score some free molly from an acquaintance because they’ve been out of a job for about four months. And it’s likely that the other is currently married with a house purchased in a nice-but-still-kind-of-hip suburb and is excited at the prospect of zestily reproducing in the next few years. One of them is getting monogrammed kitchen towels and handmade soaps for the guest bathroom, while the other is posting seven statuses a day from the comfort of their living room whilst getting high and watching reruns of Maury and eating Gogurt. And neither of these are right or wrong.

Tuesday, May 10, 2016


I hear shit like this and I am just amazed because this is like.. the first act Perla and I got to see live at Osheaga. I wanna puke, it's just soooo good. I CAN'T. KAYTRANADA GETS MUSIC.

The 16,000 views are all from me.

Tuesday, May 3, 2016


These are going to be the last pics I post from Mexico, there are a ton more but I think I'll save them for when I'm missing it a tad bit more.


Monday, May 2, 2016


Stumbling between substances and talks.
Through loud music, and lit up walks.
Christmas lights filled the trees, and the air was crisp with the smell of a spring smoke.
Everyone was so happy and I searched for something real.
I thought for a second maybe it was there.
My cheek grazed my hair, at the piano.
My mind was gone but in that moment so real.
I moved past beer spills and stumbled on misplaced feet down misplaced stairs, earning misplaced stares and misplaced
Classic. Misplaced. Me.
A girl trying to be.
I brought a flame to a cigarette and listened so closely to the burn of rewarding poison.
Lost in translation with different noises. Laughs, a beer dropping, a song that had potential to make me cry.
My body almost numb, and the red traveling straight for my eye.
Paying attention to myself and identifying real. Identifying feel.

Found it. Grasped it.
If this is misplaced, and misplaced we be.
Let me stay. Classic. Misplaced. Me.