Esther's profile

There is something undeniably disturbing about the first time the full effect of the world sinks in. The awkward discomfort during the first encounter with someone who is unnecessarily rude. The anxious twisting of intestines after getting caught in a lie. The stone-heavy guilt pitted in the stomach after seeing a neglected child. Every time the world gets uncomfortably vivid, you become slightly more damaged. This constant traumatizing of one's perception leads to some bizarre shit. Despite ...

Still broke, still poor, still elated.

Still broke, still poor, still happy.

Every strong woman stumbles Making her way through the hedge maze Of men holding her back, staring at her rack They don't cut any slack when getting her into the sack She pours out her heart, a seeping womb of Feminine empathy towards those who just don't give a fuck. They suck the life from her tits From her collagen lips And her hourglass hips Which all could look better If she only tried harder to please To get on her knees To isolate her womanly disease All for men, she bleeds, she cries ...

The sun was bleeding all over the damn place. This wasn’t right. What had happened to the gray clouds that had canopied the tiny snow-globe that Pattengill Wallace had worked so hard to enclose himself in? It had only been a week since he’d been home, and sunshine never had invoked any sense of inspiration, nor was it conducive for the self-pity and wallowing shame Patten had practically trademarked. No, this wouldn’t do. All that clean, reflective ice that sheeted the ground would turn into...