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  • i am one of the unwashed masses. a truly stinky singular mass. a real stank lump.

    smell my link in bio.

  • dare me to add auto playing music to this site ala MySpace.

    plz, i beg you. double doggie dare me.

  • smartphones aren’t the problem.

    companies that build applications that hijack our chemical reward system to profit from our attention and limited time away from labour are.

  • there is a real gap between being the self i should be to be the most successful under capitalism i can be and self i want to be. truly at odds.

  • i just wanna hang out, fuck with gender, and ride bikes. hbu?

  • the idea that spotify (and algorithms) forces musicians to become content creators instead of artists is causing my brain to melt and drip out of my ears.

  • inside me there are two wolves:

    one that is super fucking focused and good at stuff.

    and another that accidentally puts his keys in freezer.

  • crushing a blueberry, pineapple, ginger protein smoothie like the thottie ass bitch i am

    xoxo goblingirl

  • that last post was supposed to be a helpful guide about how to track expenses, then it turned into a body horror poem about consumerism.

    Just how the cookie crumbles sometimes.

  • numbers go up.

    I am little slut for consumption.

    Give me a deal. Give me a haul. Give me a 20% off and a countdown timer. Give me minor upgrades for over two-grand, packed full of precious metals.

    Make me hate myself, corporate zaddy.

    Fill my closet so full it vomits t-shirts made from oppression and the tears of children on a 12-hour shift.

    aka how to feel shame & save money.

    My bag was slipping away from me like bad bladder control. A little at a time. To patch the leak, I found the gaps in the seams by peeling back the curtain and combing through my credit card statements.

    I built a database to air my dirty laundry.

    Butchered and filed, I massacred my future pay and stored it’s tiny limbs in little Tupperware budgets. A big thick slab for groceries and rent, and little slice left over for weekends.

    Now every morning I open up the cadaver and take a look inside. Admiring the quality of my cuts. Remembering that after the light fades from Prime Day, there are endless nights of violence for those who collapse on sweatshop floors or piss in bottles under the assembly line praying to Bezos they can survive endless overnight shipping.