i have foot-in mouth, head-in rear disease.
i want to vomit at my own vulnerability.
my insides are experiencing random acts of violence. and my loins are on fire.
with my heart on the floor.

it's the Year Of The Cock.

being randy makes you susceptible to ill will.

my gloryholes are seeking salvation.

and the hounds of love are breaking through.

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i ridiculously spent the better part of the morning on Aisle 3.

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i'm neither here nor there these last couple of days.

the rains have all dissipated to bring forth lush sun-soaked days. i should be happier. but i'm not sad.

there's renewal stewing in our household as of late. there should be a sense of panic in my bones. but i firmly believe there will be good underneath all of this rot. just as i am stupidly ( Read more... )

i am in the moment. those unquiet silences that lurk and then floor you with impending doom. it speaks volumes.

hush, you silly girl. get to sleep.

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