June 2012
“4 hours and a half of torture”
i don’t even know why i bother.
You so much as flash a pretty grin at him-I will jam my fist so far up your bony ass, your cup size will double.
can’t wait.
“life’s too short to even care at all.”
bonjour le visa.
“i miss you petit belge.”
I’m not a graceful person. I’m not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2am, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during Febuary. My bones crack on a nightly basis, I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don’t belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn’t happen. The...
“You need sortin’ out, you do.”
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