I've a head full of boys and girls and they grow and fall out like follicles wedged beneath my scalp
he was so soft and rippled with sublime and sometimes I smell him when my hair fans out behind me, infecting my nostrils with a dew of yesterday and musk
she was my heart and soul and when she left I felt empty and I'll never truly be over her deep tones drawn across her skin and sinking into her eyes and the bags beneath my eyes continue to grow
he was eternity for a week and a second; but that week and a second were filled with tears and laughter and skin and sweat and sighs
her hips were as wide as rivers and rivers could contain the tears I shed for her and rocks beneath the waves remind me of the stones she threw while inhibiting a glass house
his tongue spat acid on my pale and delicate skin, now I'm covered in scar tissue and I can't help but smile when I think about your dimple and gross drooling habits
"spinning like a ceiling fan, hope I get killed and killed again"
