Related Recs

😃

Substance

Really i am coarsing through your veins. Bleeding you out. Striking a cord. Relinquishing my spine. Relegating autonomy to the massive misogyny. Reckless. unstable and a brat. Something to say at the least appropriate moment, It was us all along. The flute stayed in tune. I decided long ago I would stay. Only to let go of who I actually was. Be there when you can. You never were. Bribe your way to my heart. Lend a helping hand. Decide to be yourself. The glass shatters and I reflect on myself and who I used to be. Bad bad bad. All the same to me, I don’t care if you die of thirst. Your green with envy and it shows. Quite the pussy cat. The elixer is mid greatfuly so. I take my bath and lay myself bare. It shows. Just where have you been. All the while I have been searching and finding no release as to who I want to be. I choose this time. I decide where to put it. Wide awake and endlessly falling asleep.

@gk

Mar 1, 2025

💌

The sun

How important is it that the sun, and its gravity, allow for the revolvement of the earth? Not forcing but allowing the earth to dance. For if there were no sun to be in relation to, the earth would not be able to spin. Because of the sun there is movement of the earth, and it is this that I blame for there also being movement in me. It's strange though, because there is movement within me only because I possess its idea. Sometimes I yearn to see. If I can only witness something it allows, where can I find this sun? Suppose I need the sun. It's even more strange how the sun lives. It knows no one can miss it and that its presence is undeniable, yet secretly it holds a joke from us: that it is actually everybody who must miss it. Its rays graze my back often knowing I am incapable of turning around. Since I am incapable of finding the sun I'm left to search for it it in what's tangible. A painting can very easily show me what the sun could look like. Because of this I will frantically search for light within art. Music could effortlessly tell me the rhythm in which the sun's heart beats. Because of this I will drown the fact I cannot come into contact with its actual heartbeat with only human interpretations of it. Finding hints of yellow emerging from man's cheeks, mocking me once more of its existence, and its intangibility. Because of this I will force myself to blush so that maybe I will know what it's like to be lit. But I cannot blame the sun as the enabler of my perception; he is too good. He is good. The sun is not beautiful, for it is beauty, as it makes others beautiful.

@Izabellamiller

Feb 2, 2025

🦋

FUCK IT THE ENTIRE PAMELAD

Aka Pamela Anderson’s Epic Poem. from July 2014 on Facebook. you are welcome The Pamelad Smoldering... I know it's bad for you... But, this is when I wish, I had a cigarette- something I've never tried- (light up) some kind of relief.. I wish it was Italy 40 years ago-- The moon rising over the Amphitheater-- to tremendous applause... like Herzog (clap) Europeans don't seem to care about silly smoking laws?, We do what we want anyway - behind closed doors-- Our true character, collective complexities. childish activities - patterns- genetics? Attention deficit- - ...SEX ... a lost art-- a sickness-- Perversions- Lost sensuality - The cruel smell of orange blossoms... I love being in love– but expectations, make it impossible to be happy- or satisfied… I've tried… so hard.. maybe it's not in fashion– Tradition…just seemed so romantic…, I guess it's a used up ideal – for the old fashion… not modern… Female security… lost- no way– Coded, and loaded Cell phones, Computers — Ordering sex on line- is like ordering a book on Amazon– and … snooping eats you alive– A mirrored action. obsessive love… unhealthy, hopeless- knocked sideways– There is always this feeling - of discontent– Like something is off… I can't put my finger on why– Who wants to be the Warden– I want out of here– out of this time – in space– Grey, muted crystals, from unsavory places- bad intentions, dull- no fire-- a secret life - Laying in my hotel bed-- pulling up my stockings- carefully re-attaching to the garter- , The cuban heel- the line (right on course) the works... Feeling a little guilty- I started to fantasize-- Il Postino, Pablo Neruda- Should I go to Capri--? So frustrated-- burning... questions... No man knows what to do with me-- I blame myself-- To play with me, is eternal-- I'm not 'on the clock' or… on the 'payroll'– rrrr– I had to get out of the room- The velvet stuff and porcelain things closing in on me– What have I done...? I knew it was wrong from the start-- primitive-- base instinct.. Never marry a rich man... Euros from a Vagabond.. Just start walking - (Like Jeanne Moreau and Miles Davis) Never look back- There is only beauty ahead, Salvation.. Glory Rushing... I almost forgot where I was-- shit-- My white Burberry trench - - on the floor? A Parkay floor… (Narration by a deep voiced sexy black guy) BG- She stopped to admire it's clever design, ME- "So pretty" BG wrapped herself up— She snuck out the door with a quiet click, and Seamlessly, floating down the hall- (on wire) Her Tom Ford feet didn't touch the ground– Falling gracelessly into an elevator playing Nat King Cole's …. Stardust? (remembering the movie) ME- "Fallen Angel?" BG Nobody was up yet- out into the cool world she goes, ME-"Freedom… I can breathe…" BG- looking for a little human contact? Playful seduction? … ME- "I'm so Hungry…" BG- Her heart was racing— It was barely dawn — Bathed in perfect light- magic hour– — ME- "Everyone looks good this early" BG- Even cats and hummingbirds Was anyone watching her.. She gazed up into dark windows… to nobody… and let the jacket fall loosely around her shoulders… The rush coming back- … a little lost on purpose, Hiding around corners, ME- so dangerous- my body is on fire…. my body is never done– trouble finds me– please find me- The iron is always hot!" BG- She Leaned against the cool wall of a stoney church- It felt good, soothing- ME- I wonder how prostitution works- Does it ever feel good? Lost little souls - being taken advantage of-- or taking advantage of- Is it just for money? Is it for attention? or --- both-- Women suffer- - Everywhere... rules, rules, rules-- conflicting needs.. I can't find the answers-- It's an epidemic-- I know I won't compete with a computer-- or - a gaggle of hollywood boys hiring poor Russian girls to swallow loaves of bread up their anus'?- How does that work?" BG- She was disturbed-- How far can she take this?-- Is it even real?-- ME- "Have we lost men to thin air--- to the Abyss-- to technology and lube- Flesh is attached to a heart and a brain- takes effort...and skill... Where are the great lovers?-- A lost art... God , I hope not... I've never been to Columbia-- Should I go?- I really want to go! Is this Hysteria?… Objectification? now– Coming down from the ceiling, dripping in gold glitter– Dancing with Nureyev- eyes closed— the dream… arousing my tenderness, A sweet rawness- feeling bruised and scratched up– Hypnotic - Life is sensual– not a "fix it in post"– ME- I miss PLAYBOY- The End of an Era– Chivalry, elegance- Celebrated imperfections - differences… hot—passionate dreamy scenes… The girl next door– shyness– "it's my first time" but - not my last….(wink) – I'm planning a mysterious coup– Want to get in on it– Julian Assange? Is it healthy, to be fantasied about… by many men –? Isn't that the goal- How many can we effect– It's natural– to want to be desired– The world creeps up on you– and there you are, ALL over the place- places you never intended to be– (desert storm?) (soldiers) I am human you know– left to adjust to the madness- No mercy- pay the price– my fault- BG- feeling empty, sad– withdrawn- Left to Isolate– Medicate. Go to sleep– ME-NO! I wont- - ME- You know- It's not freaky enough, to just be beautiful– I've never felt beautiful- I always felt sexual… and blind.. oh wowwy… I'm losing my mind– I'm shutting down– It's such a strange feeling… going numb… in front of everyone—- It's like a Self inflicted drowning…hard to do– (Alarm bells!!)— When did I want to be this thing?– To attract what? When did I go from a curious little girl, to an insatiable woman? Girl on the run… Femme fatale… devoted and ….divided. Are we all going crazy? - or, is it just me? Is it that stuff on unwashed vegetables? When did I lose control over my own heart?– When did I start believing , That this is all I'm good for- against my better judgement– fell for it- dammit- it all backfired– It doesn't feel good to be used, neglected, ignored— controlled…. I'm not doing this— It's humiliating - I have to turn this around– Settling is powerless- desperate– an illusion– Can't buy your way out of this one …buddy!!, I'm cold- (She can't stop laughing..) Reminds me of a play I wrote -- That one about The Hell's Angels, starring - Steve Queen and Brigitte Bardot-- The Entr' Acte.... ** A car chase- She is going on and on (in french) and He's just trying to have his way with her- everything is double entree' Funny/Sexy-(subtitles projected) They've stolen billions in diamonds - she's dripping from head to toe... in a sparkly madness of laughter--- 60's Porsche?- (or that GT/Bullit car) All in a Car - bouncing and swerving-- lights- facing the audience-- (with BW projections from the 60's behind them--)... They fall in love-- They fall apart--- I'm not sure what the The Hells Angels have to do with it-- but they stay in the title--- The End....

@bitchscape

Apr 10, 2025

Top Recs from @pleasersjunkie

⭐

more fotos, more sounds

would love to b able to have music playing when ppl visit my profile-- its cliche but it rocks. also, like ppl have said below: the ability to add more than 1 photo in a post. u tempt us yet force us into monk-like pensive states trying to figure out what singular photo gets chosen. it's a blessing & a curse

@pleasersjunkie

Feb 25, 2025

⛑️

I Wanna Be Yours

"I want to be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust / I wanna be your Ford Cortina, I will never rust" John Cooper Clarke made one of the most romantic songs I've ever heard during this month. Devoting rituals to a person, rubbing lotion into their skin, thinking of them in deep oceans... Our desires are strengthened by pressure, like a muscle. I think JCC exercised that. Being on someone's mind is the greatest form of intimacy between two lovers, true intimacy in wanting to be the chair they sit on, the pillow they sleep on, the dirty engine running their car-- a miasma of devotion. Throughout abstract lyrics, you can make out the faces of our lovers-- a secretive expression of joy on their faces, the posturing of their arms raised high, a divinely muted memory. God, I want to want as much as he does on this song. It's all about want, want, want. You call the shots. I wanna be yours xx

@pleasersjunkie

Feb 25, 2025

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sugar kiss, lock in

This is going to be me this summer. glamorously nude, oil-slick, lounging xx

@pleasersjunkie

Feb 25, 2025