streeter:

I’m glad the portrait of Ben Franklin stayed the same on the new $100 bill. There’s something about his slight, tight frown, the paternal hint of disappointment in his eyes and those pursed, sealed lips that seem to say, “I don’t approve of what you’re doing, but I can’t stop you from rolling this banknote into a straw and ripping a fat rail of white lightning in the Buffalo Wild Wings handicapped bathroom stall, you goddamn beautiful disaster.” 

streeter:

I’m glad the portrait of Ben Franklin stayed the same on the new $100 bill. There’s something about his slight, tight frown, the paternal hint of disappointment in his eyes and those pursed, sealed lips that seem to say, “I don’t approve of what you’re doing, but I can’t stop you from rolling this banknote into a straw and ripping a fat rail of white lightning in the Buffalo Wild Wings handicapped bathroom stall, you goddamn beautiful disaster.” 

Reblogged from stability

wasting time with shitty poetry

the art the walls made came caving in slowly
very slowly
thus we weren’t able to shine quite as bright
the dust consumed us and accumulated into pain factories under and between the bed
the same tongue I kissed you with is enduring degenerative acid but I can’t say it’s much different
your lust made me sick
my love made me do it
maybe we’ll just go out to the ocean
feel our molecules dissolve
think about the things we love
chemical deterrents and cherry flavored candy
but the ocean doesn’t bring that anymore

“maybe if i drink another coffee, i will feel better”

“maybe if i buy myself a new sweater, i will feel better”

“maybe if i get so drunk i can’t see, i will feel better”

“maybe if i sleep for fourteen hours, i will feel better”