you elicit a familiar quake in my body, comparable to underwater symphonies bathed in black, or dangerous tongues erupting paint-peeling bitterness. your bare wrists, the color of crushed pills, pulse with vacuous lies. i could suffocate you with these wet scores, but i’d rather let you suffer in this maze of landmines
today, you became foreign to me.
is this a serious question?
i feed her pills like every other day, i grab her throat when she wants to run away, great sex that will make her fucking stay; but all i need is a bag of purple haze, a bad bitch that doesn’t think too much, pops pills she doesn’t drink too much, super cute but she doesn’t eat that much..