Gross Luna Slater / funeral1996 / rotten2thecore1996 / howl1996 / junkhun - Heroin Addict, Discount Courtney Love, fucking grimy

infatuation

NO PLEASURE 2020
kiwifarms.net
Today has been a very busy day for our Dainty Queen.

Her laborious tasks including but not limited to, writing poetry, drawing, taking photos of her trinkets and drugs and taking photos of a wound on Lurch's arm.

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I. crooked tooth smile, chapped lips to hide ‘em
heart paved in hold but hidden from the world with a padlock, they can’t see it
coughing up blood, cysts, phlegm
my mind is twisted with hysterical fits
i wanna breathe, but i wanna hang, my moods run wild every moment i’m awake
rupturing arteries just awaiting my eternal earthquake.

II. i feel scared all the time, an animal trapped in a jar
i’ve tried everything, i’ve loved all the real ones, but it hasn’t gotten me far
boy was my one true life but i don’t want him in my body anymore
i read paragraph after paragraph and watch the clouds go by, such a bore
falling victim to my own misery
falling victim to my shit family history.

III. alternative is love and all i’ll ever have, all i’m meant to be
my memories are wishy washy but
this time i’m ready to be free
i’m nothing more than a creature, a mutt
ravaging curdled milk and suffering knotted hair
but my family always promised one thing and that’s that nothing will ever be fair.

IV. i’m shocked everyday that i awake, continuing to breathe
i pune after the worst people since age six
every morning all i want, more than life, is to leave
but it seems there is no escape, nothing stronger than the magic of a warm internal fix
i just want to, no i need to, bleed.

V. I don’t want to eat anymore, i can’t bear another pound
elegant gowns and long silver hair don’t fit this evil body, foul
i refuse to feel like an empty fucking mound
cover the mirrors, close the blinds, nobody wants to see this, i howl
wrap me in a blanket and leave me there for weeks
only feed me through a needle, i’m just another one of you freaks.

VI. i’m i’m not innocent, i’m empty and feel hard
all i ever wanted to do was create more
i’ve been so many things, longingly your muse
i’m always halfway out the door
so fucking weak, what am i? a body in peril
nothing more than a creature running wild and feral.

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:cryblood::cryblood::cryblood:
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yes, that is a Coach handbag.
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heavycream

kiwifarms.net
Part of me wishes Kurt Cobain was still alive now, just so he could tell people like Luna they're scum and destroy the only facet of her personality in a single blow. I don't believe Kurt ever once glorified drugs himself or said anything about his heroin use other than it became a crutch that helped him deal with his back pain. Imagine how devastated she'd be if someone she's so infatuated with told her to sober up. She'd have to stop posting their pictures, self-identifying with and living vicariously through them.
 

MirnaMinkoff

Mama, nobody sends you a turd and expects to live.
True & Honest Fan
kiwifarms.net
I find it so weird she tries to imitate Courtney Love, a woman who was just trying to skinwalk Nancy Spungeon.

Gives a lot of credence to the idea that if you want to live the BPD punk junkie life, then it’s best to do like Nancy and die before your 21st birthday. What comes after the teenage punk rebel phase ain’t pretty.
 

bothiggedyhog

Thank fucking god its all coming to the light.
kiwifarms.net
Luna has had an uneventful week that has allowed her to delight in simple pleasures.

She praised a cheap beauty product for its efficacy.

She later generously demonstrated the results of said cosmetic.

As always, she found herself in the grip of The Sadness and held fast to the embrace of her beloved pill stash.
that application is making her look like the phantom of the paradise, teeth probably getting there as well
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vanilla_pepsi_head

Heavens to Spergatroyd!
kiwifarms.net
Today has been a very busy day for our Dainty Queen.

Her laborious tasks including but not limited to, writing poetry, drawing, taking photos of her trinkets and drugs and taking photos of a wound on Lurch's arm.

View attachment 1345602
I. crooked tooth smile, chapped lips to hide ‘em
heart paved in hold but hidden from the world with a padlock, they can’t see it
coughing up blood, cysts, phlegm
my mind is twisted with hysterical fits
i wanna breathe, but i wanna hang, my moods run wild every moment i’m awake
rupturing arteries just awaiting my eternal earthquake.

II. i feel scared all the time, an animal trapped in a jar
i’ve tried everything, i’ve loved all the real ones, but it hasn’t gotten me far
boy was my one true life but i don’t want him in my body anymore
i read paragraph after paragraph and watch the clouds go by, such a bore
falling victim to my own misery
falling victim to my shit family history.

III. alternative is love and all i’ll ever have, all i’m meant to be
my memories are wishy washy but
this time i’m ready to be free
i’m nothing more than a creature, a mutt
ravaging curdled milk and suffering knotted hair
but my family always promised one thing and that’s that nothing will ever be fair.

IV. i’m shocked everyday that i awake, continuing to breathe
i pune after the worst people since age six
every morning all i want, more than life, is to leave
but it seems there is no escape, nothing stronger than the magic of a warm internal fix
i just want to, no i need to, bleed.

V. I don’t want to eat anymore, i can’t bear another pound
elegant gowns and long silver hair don’t fit this evil body, foul
i refuse to feel like an empty fucking mound
cover the mirrors, close the blinds, nobody wants to see this, i howl
wrap me in a blanket and leave me there for weeks
only feed me through a needle, i’m just another one of you freaks.

VI. i’m i’m not innocent, i’m empty and feel hard
all i ever wanted to do was create more
i’ve been so many things, longingly your muse
i’m always halfway out the door
so fucking weak, what am i? a body in peril
nothing more than a creature running wild and feral.

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:cryblood::cryblood::cryblood:
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yes, that is a Coach handbag.
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Ngl, I'm a fan of the cat shirt. I almost missed the gross track marks and what looks like it could be an abscess. Would've been easy to crop that out but it's all part of the ~aesthetic~
 

lilindica

I smoke a lot of weed and say dumb shit.
kiwifarms.net
The dollar store make-up isn't at fault. Even if she put on high-end, expensive shit to cover her bad skin, she'd still wouldn't know how to blend.

I keep on telling myself this because some of my make-up is from a dollar store and I don't manage to look this bad when wearing it.
 

Clockwork_PurBle

"Shut up, you pretentious kneecap!"
kiwifarms.net
The dollar store make-up isn't at fault. Even if she put on high-end, expensive shit to cover her bad skin, she'd still wouldn't know how to blend.

I keep on telling myself this because some of my make-up is from a dollar store and I don't manage to look this bad when wearing it.
You would actually be surprised at how good cheaper makeup brands can be. Lina's fried brain has just caused her to become cosmetically ignorant.
 

Holden Caulfield

cancelled girlboss
kiwifarms.net
I find it so weird she tries to imitate Courtney Love, a woman who was just trying to skinwalk Nancy Spungeon.

Gives a lot of credence to the idea that if you want to live the BPD punk junkie life, then it’s best to do like Nancy and die before your 21st birthday. What comes after the teenage punk rebel phase ain’t pretty.
Both of them try (or tried) to be like Nancy, but there was nothing glamorous about her lifestyle in terms of being in late 60s-early 80s NYC, since fucking everyone notable was on heroin, cocaine, or both (though coke was kinda more of a west coast thing). All Luna does is hang out in her room all day complaining online, putting out the same pieces of artwork that look like they were drawn by 13 yr old. Spungen hung out with Warhol factory girls, Love came from a bunch of connections/worked as an actress, both of them had famous musician male partners-- None of which Luna has, because her and Lurch are the most unproductive, untalented type of junkie. It's the same shit with Trisha Paytas larping as a washed up Marilyn Monroe/Anna Nicole Smith, or Artie Lange becoming the bonafide fat comedian junkie ala John Belushi/Chris Farley. None of these people understand that becoming your idol largely depends on achieving peak fame first, junkiedom second. There's nothing interesting about imitating these people if literally nobody but a bunch of forum weirdos know who you are.
 

infatuation

NO PLEASURE 2020
kiwifarms.net
Tumblr updates from our Dainty Waif.

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2be

I. mind ravaged, my trauma, illness, fear
heart is thin, love filling it to the brim until it swells like a balloon ready to pop
plump and crying for attention
I love you, you made me believe i. love at first sight
i’m an animal for you, but often a sparrow: delicate, cupped in your palms
puppy dog eyes and licking your face
lapping up every ounce of each word that escapes your lips, you are pure music.

II. dizzy, trapped inside the benedryl bottle, must’ve drank Alice’s drink that shrinks her to fairy size
i’m soft, baby skin, but i don’t always keep my claws retracted.
i’m the kind of girl who cries when you yell at me, fatherly trauma is inescapable
when my phone lights up and the three letters illuminate, “D-A-D”, my heart sinks and hides and anxiety dominates me and makes me it’s bitch
“let’s go for a walk” is dad code word for
“I need to scream at you but don’t want my girlfriend to see who I really am.”
III. candlelit vigil for the loss of my innocence
the cherubs watch with tears dampening their roses cheeks, i’m sorry
a basement floor at fourteen was not when i was truly ready.
i wish i’d waited until i was 18 and we slept together under the stars.
we woke up to dewy grass and soft rain, he dresses me in his massive sweats and hoodie as he walked me home in the rain
that was the first real love i felt, we’ll share a bed forever.

IV. my father’s apartment is beautiful, but when he leaves it to me
i’ll have to find a way to hide all the terrible memories which live inside these walls.
thinking of suicide before ten, he’d corner me on the balcony and yell ‘till i’m sobbing and cowering
fantasizing about swan diving down 29 stories to splatter across New York City’s 43rd street concrete.
home… home… home? there is no home anymore
this isn’t home! it’s a temporary hideout and i’m so scared.

V. i’ll do anything for you and I
my only soulmate appearing in my own apartment, 6’6, long hair, polite and smart
that was it, love at first sight, true love at first kiss, i’ve never felt so real
even if dissociation melts me into nothing sometimes, i’m real! i’m real.
i’ll go anywhere with you.
I could write an rn loped is sized novel of our six year love story
the happiness, the deaths in our family, the hardships, but still together.

VI. I trace shapes into your back while you try to sleep cos it soothes you
and you sing “The Night Night Song” that your father used to sing to you before bed too.
you and I, some cat companions, an army of plushies
wrapped up together on a mattress floating through the sean
we pretend we’re on a boat while we watch
80’s sitcoms to float to dreamland.

VII. the sun cowers behind the clouds, while mother moon, who shares my name, gets ready for her grand entrance to the sky stage.
she is beautiful, a full and round face like mine
renaissance painting body, bleach on my head
attempting to disguise myself to hide amongst the angels in the sky.

VIII. I, the moon, and you, my glowing sun, shall marry amongst the stars!
we hold hands in the sky, creating beautiful colored sunsets.
when I look at you, I see the rich pinks, oranges, yellows, and purples of the sky
my piece of living art
you help me realize i’m not ready to die.
together, through the state we fly high!
we can be free.

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