Rot Peddler
@rotpeddler.bsky.social
Violence in appetite and ill-suited reverence
Hey.
Hey.
Cool as fuck alien
November 20, 2025 at 8:57 AM
Cool as fuck alien
I don't know what to say anymore. Or if I should anything at all.
November 16, 2025 at 11:26 AM
I don't know what to say anymore. Or if I should anything at all.
Paraffin angel, silhouetted by stars. Your heart lies amongst the nothing, a name burnt in gaps between. Exact as much of the ceaseless as you need to chart against the ending you've ignited. A candle only burns so long.
November 16, 2025 at 5:54 AM
Paraffin angel, silhouetted by stars. Your heart lies amongst the nothing, a name burnt in gaps between. Exact as much of the ceaseless as you need to chart against the ending you've ignited. A candle only burns so long.
appetite and starvation
November 16, 2025 at 5:14 AM
appetite and starvation
Vampire who has lost the self that danced along with her in reflections and tries to map out the changes of her body from her flawed vantage, measuring her skin different each time she compares. She wonders just how much of her bears originality, compared to the person that she thinks she sees now.
November 2, 2025 at 10:51 AM
Vampire who has lost the self that danced along with her in reflections and tries to map out the changes of her body from her flawed vantage, measuring her skin different each time she compares. She wonders just how much of her bears originality, compared to the person that she thinks she sees now.
Reposted by Rot Peddler
Reposted by Rot Peddler
people forget that Obama took away your Newport Gokus
my buddy had a dream about "newport snows" which where like, spearmint, not menthol
so i made it for him in photoshop
and got carried away
so i made it for him in photoshop
and got carried away
September 17, 2025 at 6:42 PM
people forget that Obama took away your Newport Gokus
Reposted by Rot Peddler
Colima Spider Vessel, c. 200 BCE-600 CE, National Museum of Anthropology, Mexico City.
September 18, 2025 at 4:32 AM
Colima Spider Vessel, c. 200 BCE-600 CE, National Museum of Anthropology, Mexico City.
used the wrong words multiple times and posted i'm, as the kids say, utterly chopped </3
September 15, 2025 at 10:26 AM
used the wrong words multiple times and posted i'm, as the kids say, utterly chopped </3
My fingertips trail along the weathered metal, choreographed along each ridge to the machine's unresponsive composition. Fingers find walls and I force them open to expose the dull voice of its wires, a laborious cantata. But now the machine can hear me, loosing proving screams for each wire torn.
September 15, 2025 at 9:34 AM
My fingertips trail along the weathered metal, choreographed along each ridge to the machine's unresponsive composition. Fingers find walls and I force them open to expose the dull voice of its wires, a laborious cantata. But now the machine can hear me, loosing proving screams for each wire torn.
Reposted by Rot Peddler
Justified, though all the more intended for it. It carries a recognizable pain with it, shared as the reflection shares a mirror. Does your anger bear a target? Wield a source? Misguided, lashing out recklessly and biting any hands that stray near enough. Confused, wondering where the food has gone.
September 10, 2025 at 8:51 AM
Justified, though all the more intended for it. It carries a recognizable pain with it, shared as the reflection shares a mirror. Does your anger bear a target? Wield a source? Misguided, lashing out recklessly and biting any hands that stray near enough. Confused, wondering where the food has gone.
I see future grief in the headlights, dreading what may be as I steal it to create something worse. As it passes, ambition. And so when I watch the break lights trail on, I wonder to myself if a thing feared can ever truly be lost.
September 7, 2025 at 11:59 AM
I see future grief in the headlights, dreading what may be as I steal it to create something worse. As it passes, ambition. And so when I watch the break lights trail on, I wonder to myself if a thing feared can ever truly be lost.
She pases a sordid gaze, reserved to greet the extinguished sky, over the dead brush's mangled limbs, so she may better read between the forms of the cracked and dry. There is a story in those corpses on that hill, one too short to notice and too long to tell. In time she will watch it be forgotten.
September 7, 2025 at 10:06 AM
She pases a sordid gaze, reserved to greet the extinguished sky, over the dead brush's mangled limbs, so she may better read between the forms of the cracked and dry. There is a story in those corpses on that hill, one too short to notice and too long to tell. In time she will watch it be forgotten.
Bite gnash turn and fear! Caution's yield for end may near!
September 5, 2025 at 10:41 AM
Bite gnash turn and fear! Caution's yield for end may near!
The sun atop his throne
The wolves all left to be dress
A beating heart yet roam
A love formed to an abscess
With hunger been delivered
Form turning cold and grey
We bit, chewed, and fed
Forgiving night to day
Clamped to a beat, hunger against you
Heart pulsing to teeth, I can still hear you
The wolves all left to be dress
A beating heart yet roam
A love formed to an abscess
With hunger been delivered
Form turning cold and grey
We bit, chewed, and fed
Forgiving night to day
Clamped to a beat, hunger against you
Heart pulsing to teeth, I can still hear you
September 5, 2025 at 10:38 AM
The sun atop his throne
The wolves all left to be dress
A beating heart yet roam
A love formed to an abscess
With hunger been delivered
Form turning cold and grey
We bit, chewed, and fed
Forgiving night to day
Clamped to a beat, hunger against you
Heart pulsing to teeth, I can still hear you
The wolves all left to be dress
A beating heart yet roam
A love formed to an abscess
With hunger been delivered
Form turning cold and grey
We bit, chewed, and fed
Forgiving night to day
Clamped to a beat, hunger against you
Heart pulsing to teeth, I can still hear you
A cigarette hangs limply from her mouth, letting the last of its embers chase the end of their forming ash trail. It occupies the idea of her before I'm even allowed the thought. With it she forms on the wind, leading my frost tipped fingers to a warmth she reserves for nicotine and alcohol.
September 5, 2025 at 9:39 AM
A cigarette hangs limply from her mouth, letting the last of its embers chase the end of their forming ash trail. It occupies the idea of her before I'm even allowed the thought. With it she forms on the wind, leading my frost tipped fingers to a warmth she reserves for nicotine and alcohol.
Maybe there is something poetic in the low, quiet air reserved for prose. An effigy we all built from salvaged scraps of recollection, that being the idea itself therein and braided ferverently. How beautiful to a stranger are words which are not mine, simply the idea of what they once were.
September 3, 2025 at 1:45 PM
Maybe there is something poetic in the low, quiet air reserved for prose. An effigy we all built from salvaged scraps of recollection, that being the idea itself therein and braided ferverently. How beautiful to a stranger are words which are not mine, simply the idea of what they once were.
Boymoding by driving my car well
September 2, 2025 at 1:14 AM
Boymoding by driving my car well
"How sweet the fruit for you to eat it so!" You reassure me, its coiled flesh strung flat over your teeth. "And how innocent should a taste pass me so!" You mumble over strained mastication, pulp visible for each grin which bears your fangs. You shouldn't talk with a mouth full. It's bad conduct.
September 1, 2025 at 11:28 AM
"How sweet the fruit for you to eat it so!" You reassure me, its coiled flesh strung flat over your teeth. "And how innocent should a taste pass me so!" You mumble over strained mastication, pulp visible for each grin which bears your fangs. You shouldn't talk with a mouth full. It's bad conduct.
Reposted by Rot Peddler
Good morning~☀️🫠今日のらくがきで〜す
August 30, 2025 at 12:22 AM
Good morning~☀️🫠今日のらくがきで〜す
i am that little voice which tick, tap, raps at the inside of your skull, seeming to burrow. I am your lover, scorned and needy. I am your parent, disappointed and worried. I am your closest friends, forgetting where you are.
August 26, 2025 at 1:02 PM
i am that little voice which tick, tap, raps at the inside of your skull, seeming to burrow. I am your lover, scorned and needy. I am your parent, disappointed and worried. I am your closest friends, forgetting where you are.
just another cog in a very angry machine, as hateful as it was raised to be
August 26, 2025 at 12:55 PM
just another cog in a very angry machine, as hateful as it was raised to be
Reposted by Rot Peddler
