Comments Posted By innards

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It hurt. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt before and like all of the pain I had ever felt before. I’d agreed to this. I cried out. There’s a fine line between pain and pleasure; with each of his subsequent thrusts more forceful than the previous, I knew there was a fine line. At least the chains on my wrists felt good.

» Posted By innards On 08.25.2012 @ 3:11 pm


You think you’re with the free but I think you’re with the oppressed. I think I’m with the free but you think I’m with the oppressed. But, still, we stand side by side, hand in hand. And who I am and who you are really depends on which side people stand on when they’re judging us.

» Posted By innards On 08.25.2012 @ 3:09 am


I need approval. But I won’t give myself my own approval. So how can I approve your approval? Your approval is met with no belief. I am sorry that your sincerity is not enough. I am sorry that nothing is enough.

» Posted By Innards On 08.11.2012 @ 4:53 pm


Blood; sweat; tears. These became the props of my life. First, it was others’ exudate. Now, locked up in this cell, masturbating into oblivion, it’s my own blood: my own sweat and tears. The only things defining my existence.

» Posted By Innards On 07.28.2012 @ 2:49 am


“You have got to decide which crew you’re siding with, brother.”

“Yes, our fellow. Decide now, for the time has come. Us or them.”

“Them, or us?”

He surrenders his weapon to the ground beneath him. For the sake of unity, he tells himself; ‘I’m doing this for the sake of unity. “I’m with neither. I’m on the side of unity. We can all come together. Brethrens we can all be. United.”

So both crews screwed him instead. Blood spewed from him instead. Rejection wasn’t taken lightly from any one of them.

They didn’t realise it, but he had got what he wanted. His body was his weapon. He had surrendered his weapon to the ground. For the sake of unity.

» Posted By innards On 07.15.2012 @ 2:49 pm


She wanted wood. Good wood. She wanted it big. She wanted one that would last a long time; that she would be satisfied with for as long as they lived in that house for richer and poorer and for better and even better until death or a last big breath did them part.

What she wanted wasn’t a doorknob.

» Posted By innards On 07.13.2012 @ 2:20 pm


“Oh, God. What if I can’t find a blue pen when I’m in high school? Or I lose it? Or it breaks or runs out of ink?”

“Then,” he says, grimacing, knowing the goody-two-shoes geek I am, “you get a detention. It’s STRICTLY only blue pens allowed in high school.”

“What? I can’t get a detention. I can’t handle a detention. I don’t want a detention. I’m hyperventilating. I can’t do this high school lark. Don’t make me go. Please.”

Since that day to this very day, I haven’t been able to use a blue pen.

» Posted By innards On 07.07.2012 @ 2:27 am


I need an escape.

Here to Portsmouth. By railroad: trains, not planes or automobiles.
Megatrain. Virgin Trains Best Fare Finder. TheTrainLine Best Fare Finder. forum. Ticket splitting. iPhone apps. Tickety Split. Bargains. Clasped. Grabbed. Booked.

All for the 8-ball to then tell me the outlook of me making my solo excursion is “not so good”.

» Posted By innards On 07.04.2012 @ 4:31 am


Tarantism: the urge to overcome melancholic emotion through motion. Dancing motion. There’s no worthy emotion without motion, you tell yourself. A motionless life leaves you apathetic.

Do something. Do someone. Go somewhere.

Use your hips.

Do something; walk. Do someone; thrust. Go somewhere; run.

You’re going places in life. It’s what you tell yourself. It’s what gets you through one more night. 


» Posted By innards On 07.01.2012 @ 3:55 pm


I am the configuration of my mother and, to a lesser extent, my father.

You are the configuration of your mother and your father and their mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and the lady who lives across the road from you and the people who live in another part of your area who may see you and judge you for stepping out of the house once a month for some oxygen

This culture; it’s driving me insane.

What will be the configuration of your kids?

» Posted By innards On 06.28.2012 @ 3:01 am


You – get her body dressed; dress it right nice. Sickening that we respect the dead more than the living, ain’t it?

You – get the ushers up to date with their schedules and their positions. No, keep your clothes off, bitch.

You – rearrange that shelf; put the flowers at eye level. These lazy fuckers are too busy to raise their gaze.

You – start on desserts; you – start on the mains; you can both work on starters closer to the time. Aprons off. Don’t let those fine tits go to waste.

What’s that, girl? What will I do? What will I do?! I’ll do my job. I’m the distributor. I distribute the tasks. But you, you are not paid to think. You are paid to do. You will do what I say. You – shoot yourself. Shoot yourself. All right, I’ll show you what else I do; how I excel above and beyond in my role. Boom. There’s always got to be one. You – get her body dressed; dress it right nice. Sickening that we respect the dead more than the living, ain’t it?

» Posted By innards On 06.27.2012 @ 9:31 am


Canned soups – check; cartonned soups – check; tinned soups – check. The monotony of this is becoming too much to bear.

Heat soups – check; dish soups – check; serve soups – check. The monotony of this is becoming too much to bear.

Eat soups, drink soups, binge soups – wretch. The monotony of this is becoming too much to bear. 

The monotony of THIS is becoming too much to bear.

» Posted By innards On 06.26.2012 @ 2:24 am

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