PEDESTRIAN FETISH
MY LOVE MY BOLLARD
BUS TOP BABE
FET MIASMA MISS
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

also delete or move anything u dont like.. jus firing stuff in , be kool to see it evolve

Forceful rape of my virgin body whilst unconscious. Woken up by an angry body screaming, thrust out the door naked with a bloodied bedsheet thrown after me. stumbled through the corridors confused and in pain, it's strange to feel 'open' forthe first time. The next night he find me again pulls me into a toilet, pushes my drunken body down n the tiles, i'm still bleeding form last night. He forces his cock into my mouth, i dot want to open my mouth. He yanks my hair and smashes my head repeaedly against the sink untill it bleeds. I open my mouth and he forces it so deep I gag and cry. Upon return I lie a truth to my bullies and declare Ive had sex. The btch bullying me called Jeffry hacks my msn account and apparantly makes contact with my abuser, who lives in some pretty nice (i imagned) town south of England. He's called Ben btw and is middleclass, played rugby. He had ennogh to buy cheap champagne at 18, and the hotel was populated by people who looked liek they went to private school. This was my main 'read' cnsdering I didnt know very much as I had just turned 15 th week before and there wasnt much exernal influence to be presented in a Scottosh new town. Post msn hack aparantly a video circulates, that Ben has sent to Jeffry. This video is my death warrant. Aparantly everyne in the school and the town see me getting fucked and declare it a porno. If this vidoe did exist i'm clearly unconscious and underage, but I guess it was 'another time'. So my fuckd body circulates and I'm blackmailed wiht it. then I'm britalisedby it. 10 men punch me to the ground and rip my hair out clump by clump (which I thogth an unusual act of degradation) for being a slut. I cant walk home form school as bitchesare litelaraly throwing bricks at me and i'm scared they will kill me one day. My boy pa Stobo saves his lunch miney and i do the same and hides wiht me / fends them off if they see us long enoguh to get me into a cab far enough up the road they cant catch us (we enver have enogh money to make it home). This is a rough outskirt of Glasgow, someone this year killed a teacher in amy school so its not unlikely I would too be murdred, r disfgured or injured to the poitn of permanaent dsability. A 'friend' of my David drilled into a boys kneecaps for nicking a videocassette form a party hed had and it was so bad he'll never be able to walk. I was mainly worried that smeone would stab my in the eyes r cut my hands off and this bitch geraldine whoe was particulrly mental and didnt like me much had smashed a shop owners hands in wiht a hammer and she knew i liked to draw. Violence was deifnaely the vibe in 2004. Apart form that the verbal abuse and the shame when my cousin found out 'i was a slut' whihc is partculary diffcult to meander when you are catholic. The situation was untenable but I began to enjoy it in a way, and often it ws excting, if you jsut dont go dow n the ground then you gain sme kind of respect and keepyour organs intact. Luckily the woman mags I worked wiht in the chippy saved me from escalation into hospital as her duaghter Stacey who was well knwn and respected as was done for GBH when she was 14 and was espically tough (but sound) did me a favour n warned peopl to stop attacking me.

That situationaffected me in ways i woldnt ahve guessed at the time, as opposed to courting abuse I always have a really 'nice' boyfriend, too nice so much they do everythgin for me and i never like them enough, I'm still scared to walk through underpasses. I love a facefuck and absoltely delight in the feeling of my head split open.

phenomenia - dario arigento

essays on Sylvia Wynter

"we humans cannot re-exist our origin myths any more than a bee can pre-exist its beehive"

The function of these stories is to initiate the members of societies into
'sociogenic/cosmogonic replicator codes', which underwrite the social mechanism of in- and ex-clusion as well as the production of meaning. Drawing inspiration from Wynter's companion essays "The Ceremony Must Be Found" (1984) and "The Cermony Found" (2015)

deep in the trash bin
not a soul