motherknife - Tumblr blog

[motherknife]

Safia Elhillo, from "Summer," Girls That Never Die.

[motherknife]

"what are you gonna do with that degree?" I don't know. probably kill myself.

[motherknife]

Cotton string on vintage postcard, Kensuke Koike, 2014

[motherknife]

amber heard as nicola six in london fileds.

[motherknife]

source n/a

[motherknife]

Recoil’s Want, feat. Nicole Blackman is an excerpt of her poetry. (as is much of her work with Golden Palaminos and KMFDM)  “I want to know how it will end. I want to be sure of what it will cost. I want to strangle the stars for all they promised me. I want you to call me on your drug phone. I want to keep you alive so there is always the possibility of murder later. I want to be there when you learn the cost of desire. I want you to understand that my malevolence is just a way to win. I want the name of the ruiner. I want matches in case I have to suddenly burn. I want you to know that being kind is overrated. I want to measure how much torture we can stand. I want to know where your altruism went. I want to watch you lose control. I want to watch you lose. I want to know exactly what it’s going to take. I want to see you insert yourself into glory. I want your touches to scar me so I’ll know where you’ve been. I want you to watch when I go down in flames. I want to crush the thing you love just so you know I can. I want a list of atrocities done in your name. I want to work both sides of the fence. I want to have two cats so when one dies one will eat the other - and nothing will be wasted. I want to reach my hand into the dark and feel what reaches back. I want you to turn tender when you have the time. I want to remember when my nightmares were clearer. I want to be there when your hot black rage rips wide open. I want to find a way for you to survive all this. I want to taste my own kind. I want America to be socialized around creation instead of fear. I want to meet your host virus. I want to charm your sleep captain. I want everyone to see the tiara break. I want to be wrapped in cold wet sheets to see if it’s different on this side. I want you to play it to me over the phone. I want you to make a scorching debut. I want you to come on strong. I want the television left on so I can sleep. I want to crunch the numbers. I want you to write your life story and leave me out of it. I want to write my secret across your sky. I want to keep you in the dark. I want to leave you out in the cold. I want to voice my concerns. I want the exact same thing but different. I want some soft drugs, some soft soft drugs. I want to throw you. I want to know if I’ll ever be safe in the dark. I want to decide who next year’s dead rock stars will be. I want you to know I know. I want to speak hot metal fluently. I want to know why you’re starting to look like the last one. I want just enough rope to hang you. I want to hurt myself before you do, because I can do it better. I want to coax the keys from your hand. I want to throttle the bottle blonde because I know what she did. I want to know if you read me. I want to swing with my eyes shut and see what I hit. I want to silver your hands. I want to know just how much you hate me so I can pr edict what you’ll do. I want you to know the wounds are self-inflicted. I want a controlling interest. I want to be somewhere beautiful when I die. I want to be your secret hater. I want to stop destroying you but I can’t. I want and I want and I want and I will always be hungry.”                    —       Nicole Blackman, What I Want For Christmas (and other holidays where we speak of dead men)

[motherknife]

[motherknife]

[motherknife]

Sheryl Lee on the set of Twin Peaks Fire Walk With Me 1992

[motherknife]

1926: “This girl has all of [the] trends and she’s not loath to wear them at once: bell earrings, a dog collar worn as a necklace, a large beauty spot on her cheek, an ivory cigarette holder, a design to cover the vaccination mark on her arm, heavy bracelets, an anklet, a photo of a boyfriend on her stocking, an anklet watch, fancy garters worn below the knee and a mirror fastened to her wrist.”

Waiting for wristwatch anklets to make a comeback

[motherknife]

Courtney often had trouble figuring out how to end a song. New songs were her thing, shiny new songs and pretty parts without endings. I think she wanted to stay inside the song, the way you never want a feeling to end.

— Patty Schemel on Courtney Love in her memoir Hit So Hard

[motherknife]

[motherknife]

[motherknife]

the sensual world. louise glück

[motherknife]

lado bokuchava

[motherknife]

[motherknife]

crash 1996 reference on my car after hitting a staircase