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You have reached that special level of tired. The one where it feels like all of your organs are failing and you’re going to die twitching blood. tch-tch-tch But of course your extremities feel like they’re floating about and the internal thermostat is busted. How the hell did you make it to six oh five with someone’s desperation clinging to you like lichen and the stupidity that comes from sex? Are you going to default on dying or the next several hours of plans? will you go to bed now and hold the pieces of your peace until that tiny tinny little shitty indestructible nokia rings again? It was neutral now the nightmare of waking up again to cheerful bells ascending to the highest pitch of poor quality sound chips embedded in your glitching sim. You are tweaking out now, without the chemicals. Why be cynical, honey, just sleep when you’re dead from driving into that damn ditch. Or at least, that’s what he said to me. Watch me work it all out and then follow my footsteps. Mind the wobbling, it’s natural, all part of the game. And the winner is the one who falls face first last.
In a dog eat dog world, don’t dine on shit. Avoid it, while we work our way through. Today maybe baby we could do it. Do it however you want, watch out for the fucking landmines and scrape away the goosebumps with a flower coated fork. Fuck it, not you, the entirety of everything.
Hair up, hair down. pull the elastic out as it screams let me leave and the strands will cling onto everything they come across because how the else the hell else would everything work. won’t work, will stay home and be a brood mare. why don’t we all live off of young and the restless and vacuum up the bon bon crumbs of luxury, dinner on the table by six o’clock sharp, as sharp as his suit after an eight hour workday clock-in clock-out sleep-eat-fuck her up against the desk sorry I was out at a business lunch that no one would like
but maybe baby we should be lovers, lesbians, and I’ll cover the cost of being the brood mare, pick up the tab. or maybe baby we can dine and dash out of expectations cause I ain’t your goddamn baby and you ain’t mine…so why is it fucking okay to infantilize the fuck right outta me NO YOU DON”T GET TO fucking fuck you fucker. take you scandinavian germanic dutch strike thrust copulation right up the ass because I sure as shit don’t want it