each year i'm on the lookout for a couple dressed up as a sunny side up egg and a strip of bacon. a beautiful thing
not receiving head or tail from a bunny costume tonight. torrential downpour on the way to the amc. involuntary wet t-shirt contest. forgot deodorant. human. and all my wanting.. elizabeth holmes will fill my manipulation void
someone told me that grass seems greener on the other side because it's turf which sounds like cope to me but it was enough to compel me to focus on tilling my own soil
early childhood conditioned me to function as a doormat so it's wild that i can't find a real job or at least a wealthy benefactor. like it's visible in my big brown downturned eyes that i'm someone in need of saving. and savings..
pressed pause four minutes into a movie so i could jerk off for the first time in two weeks. my pavlovian cope
downloaded audible so i could listen to joe manganiello's memoir about how he explored recovery and masculinity and heterodox medicine in the wake of a failed marriage and his unexplained illness. he's lowkey joan of arc to me
inexplicably febrile and restless under the full moon. my biopsychological drive is bestial and atavistic. coarse fur already sprouts from my appendages.. either i'm turning into a werewolf or someone phantom threaded me and put poison mushrooms in my dinner to weaken me
does anyone know why both of my older brothers were given biblical names and i wasn't. or why the one time at midnight mass when they passed the candle down the pews, the flame self-extinguished once it got to me