#wrestling in dirt pits

[julia-bonkers]

girls when America’s sweetheart starved straight to death, and some say they’re still peeling her out of that bed (bless her heart)

[waanderlussttt]

drawing of the house i grew up in

[taxidermydolls]

fucking my guts like he hates me spitting his love in my mouth

[whegan]

i want to make out in dirt pits

[milkcarton4ngel]

[dissectress]

i fall asleep to ethel cain’s unreleased tracks every single night

[ethelsdemolyrics]

My mama's always been good at making me cry

'Til I'm holding that gun to my head

[peninsulagirlhood]

my son of a preacher, sinful as ever

[bluehourbaby]

and some say they’re still peeling her out of that bed, bless her heart!!!!!!!!

[ageofdelilah]

thrift store art + words by Ethel Cain / lettering by me ♡

[lesbianjudasiscariot]

america’s sweetheart, starved straight to death and some say they’re still peeling her out of that bed, bless her heart

[fertileground]

[rottendust]

I keep praying you’ll save me

[roadsiderot]

Need

[acteur-dramatique]

Dust and Echoes

I sit here in this small office,

Ethel Cain's voice haunting the air,

"Crying During Sex" on repeat,

her words drifting like dust through the room

as I file faxes,

review patient charts,

write back to live I'll never see,

each word typed by another brick

int he wall I build between myself

and the ache of them --

Samuel, Liam, Troy.

The Midwest feels like an iron jail,

the dust settling over everything,

fields brittle, barren, empty,

like the wastelands left by the drought,

and I wonder if my heart

has turned to cracked hearth,

a hollow stretch of nothingness

where life once tried to grow.

Outside, the land sprawls like a Hooverville,

makeshift and gray,

cobbled together with pieces of the past

that won't go away.

And I wonder where they are --

if Samuel is across the river,

if Liam and Troy have found new homes

far from this dusty graveyard of dreams.

They're somewhere out there,

while I am stuck here,

a town beaten down by wind and sand,

each gust scattering memories

I cannot hold onto,

yet I can't let go.

"Waco, TX" fills the room now,

and I feel the heat of a southern sun

I will never touch,

a warmth that's miles and miles away

from this cold, flat, endless land.

They've all left, I think,

for something better,

for places where the dust doesn't cling

to your clothes,

where the air isn't thick with memory,

where you aren't left staring

at the barren ground

wondering wha might have been.

"Wrestling in Dirt Pits" hums low,

Ethel's voice a hymn for lost souls,

and I file another fax,

review another chart,

bury myself in the monotony,

hoping to lose them for a while,

to forget that Samuel is only across the river,

a few exits away,

but feels a thousand miles gone.

Meanwhile, I sit here,

tethered to this desolation,

the dust bowl in my chest swirling,

a storm that won't settle,

won't give way to rain.

I'm down to this rusted Midwest,

to a ghost town of empty loves,

to echoes that linger like dust

caught in the wind,

and all I can do is listen to these songs,

watch the paper stack higher,

and wonder where they are

in a world beyond this cracked, forgotten land.

[mrsmiseryxo]

will be my favorite song forever and always