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Lauren Nichole.
Artist in essence. Lyricist of sorts. Someone who knows nothing, but you're still listening, so there must be something.

And I hope you know that you are my main audience because you were and may still be something I’ve always tried to hard to be. So this one’s for you, all of it. Entertain yourself, find yourself find something else, find what they’re all waiting for us to find up out underneath between and anywhere else out there. 


I am slowly getting to that place where everything makes sense. 

That may be the first step on the path to the next consciousness level but its so fucking out of reach.

It has to be easier than this endless search you know, fuck.. or maybe the search is the path i don’t know it all just feels like… like

Which drug do I need to take to open up that part of me to get me to where it all just clicks

Does this pill help my mind to seethe reality the real functioning actual unknown reality  in stead of what these eyes see happening in front of me? 

I mean how many of these do I need to take before the false realities of this world fall apart and crumble away from under me into nothingness so i can finally see whats going on down there because there obviously isn’t anything happening up there that’s affecting us right now… there all just watching… waiting! I need to see the mechanics behind this whole operation who’s running this shithole  why wont they let us slow down???? I want to tear the whole fucking universe apart but I cant even begin to fathom how i’d possibly be able to put it all back together again and i dont know what to do and i know that somehow i do know but i wont let myself reveal it to me anymore. 




a headline from my perfect world

(Source: rawstory.com, via astro-stoner)




I love boys who have massive, throbbing vocabularies. 

I love girls who have clean, tight grammar

I like big dicks.

(via fatandmoody)

Man suffering from sex addiction fulfills perceived fantasies of women he comes in contact with only to find his fantasy is non-existent commits suicide. Perceived version of self meets true self on post death DMT trip. 

Eat Me

Devour me

Pull me into your gravitational field.

Let be become one with you

One within

One who lives

Unknown Chapter

All I wanted to do was have fun. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.

All I wanted was to go to Disneyland.

I wanted to be and find Peter Pan.

I wanted to laugh.

I wanted to forget that a world existed outside this wonderful world of magical attractions dreamt up by another mind just as sick as my own.

Instead I spent three days trapped in a hot very small and closet like room. Three days getting yelled at. Three days getting spat on, getting shoved, getting demeaned in every thinkable fashion. For three days I wondered if I’d even live. I have minor injuries to the left side of my jaw, back, and legs but the most painful thing, the place I am most deeply hurt is in my mind. 

I have spent a 20 year lifetime in and out of abusive relationships. The first being my relationship with my mother and father. The next being with my sister. Those three have hurt me in the deepest of ways possible and will never accept or even acknowledge what they have done. 

I was twelve years old when I started highschool and when I met Jonathon. I lost my virginity to the 17 year old boy on the last day of my freshman year. I wish when that relationship started I would have seen how abusive it would have grown into. Getting hit, shoved, raped even. I remember the day I graduated, the night rather, grad night. We were at Disneyland, he was shoving me around my dress was ripped in several places and cuts scrapes and newly formed bruises covered my legs from every time he shoved me into the nearest pillar or brick wall. I remember it being the end of the night, riding Pirates of the Caribbean, looking up into that faced of a night sky that at the time fooled me into thinking I was looking up into the stars above. I remember waiting to go home. Wanting so desperately to leave that place that the sound of dirty scoundrels singing “yo ho ho ho” as townspeople ran from the flames that were slowly engulfing the city became oddly comforting. The next time I saw Jonathon was a month later for a fourth of july celebration at the beach. We attempted to have sex on slippery rock formations and to be quite honest that is all I can even remember of that day besides the fact that I , internally, vowed to never see or speak to him again. I kept that promise.