i hate ate meat, and it was as comforting as mac and cheese. god save the queen.

RED : song
WORK : load
REALITY : fake .
DREAMS : reality
FAMILY : friends
MUSIC : fallible
BEAUTY : undermine
FRIENDS : none
TATTOOS : wrinkle
VICE : sin
SUMMER : taste
WRITER : me
ART : like
LOVE : bleak
SONG : sad
SCENT : yum
GREEN : pretty
FASHION : wtf
THERAPY : alright
FOOD : love
VACATION : needed
BRAD PITT : yum
ARCHENEMY : ok
LEMMINGS : son
FATE : huh
FAITH : love
OCEAN : greek
SEX APPEAL : needed
JOHNNY DEPP : bones
WOMAN : damned
MAN : me

you'll be the death of me. all of you.

"I know the reason you have sticky fingers," she wheezed excitedly. I stared at her in disbelieving awe. She continued, "The black and white pictures. Stop it with your godforsaken lies. Ancient pornography is self-deprecatingly licentious." Because she was aged like balsamic vinegar, I paid no heed to her sermons. But I should have. Oh Lordy, I should have--because she was aged like balsamic vinegar, and they pour it on ice cream in Italy. And so my soul died on the 54th of June, while winter chills ate my vas deferens.

Mardi gras beads hang on a doorknob and twinkle at me blithely. They, like the burlesque dancers on my lap, are licentious. uhlllllllllllll. L-O-V-E.

Pray tell, what would you do without me underneath you?
Well, honeycheeks, I guess I would just be straddling empty space.
Does that get you off?
What the barometer?
What fucking barometer? No, stupid. Me underneath you.
Oh, you know. Ha-choo. Torricelli vacuum.

mmmm.

Tell me you'll give me a stainless steel kitchen with copper pots, and I'll tell you that I adore and love you.

I'm sorry. That was a lie.

HA!

What I'm really sorry for is lying about my lie.

i feel like the world is against me.