hankcrocodile

[hankcrocodile]

how busy are you guys that you can't spend a few days sorting beetles?

[hankcrocodile]

as a new yorker i am NOT answering this question from my police officer dipshit fuckhead brother. you can’t force me to do that

[hankcrocodile]

[hankcrocodile]

hey so if i feel horribly depressed being single but also the thought of moving on makes me feel physically ill what the fuck am i supposed to do. do i start writing indie rock songs or what

[hankcrocodile]

Wet Beast Wednesday

[hankcrocodile]

update one of my friends knows him kinda well. i hope everyone is ready for what i'm gonna do to that boy

could someone get me in touch with cameron winter i want to confuse him sexually and make him wonder if he likes boys

[hankcrocodile]

could someone get me in touch with cameron winter i want to confuse him sexually and make him wonder if he likes boys

[hankcrocodile]

just booked Emperor X for a personal performance in central park for my roommate's birthday. i am the best fucking roommate ever

[hankcrocodile]

Web weave on breaking up.

[hankcrocodile]

morston just hurts sooooo good if they never even fucked each other and the only bit of intimacy they’ve ever shared together is arthur locking eyes with john through the cut linen of dutch’s tent — john’s eyes are hollow, wet with tears and red with a young boy’s rage, his jaw is slack, bleeding strangled hymns, his darkly shining hair is splayed over the cot, forms a twisted halo around his skull — arthur feels sick, wants to gag, almost does, wants to run and he almost does that, too, but he can’t bear to leave john alone like this, wonders how many times he’s been alone like this — with dutch — and when dutch hunches forward to run his hand over john’s chest and grasp at his throat his wide frame shadows john, swallows him all up until arthur can only see dark shimmering eyes peering up at him over dutch’s shoulder, refusing to look away and it all makes him feel deathly ill, stomach twisting, the stench of rot in his nose and when john cries and cries and dutch groans, hitches himself flat to john and holds fast there, lips twitching into a smirk, heaving with pride, arthur trembles with anger — fists clenched at his sides, fingers twitching because he can’t decide whether he wants to beat dutch to a bloody mess of fractured bone and mush or fire into him until his body is so full of holes that’s it’s nearly shredded in half — but he just keeps watching and he hates himself for it, and when dutch finally lifts off the boy and moves across the tent and john stays there, torn and shivering, glistening with sweat and tears and perversion, warmth, not hate, not fear, fucking warmth returns to his eyes that never once strayed from arthur’s.

[hankcrocodile]

mine are collapsing

[hankcrocodile]

any takers

who wants to come to my house and throw things at me until i'm unconscious

[hankcrocodile]

they make me sick

[hankcrocodile]

three to four was ridiculously optimistic i don't know why i said that

oooohhh okay. so i’ll keep embarrassing myself every three to four days until i die. got it 👍

[hankcrocodile]

oooohhh okay. so i’ll keep embarrassing myself every three to four days until i die. got it 👍

[hankcrocodile]

this is called what?

wet cigarette

and this is called what?

wet cigarette

and what is this?

wet cigarette

and perhaps what is this?

wet cigarette

[hankcrocodile]

📸: Andy Willsher