pitstic2
scuba steve is the anti-love of my life. He's that annoying energetic type who says things like, "nice day for a swim, huh hun?"
I am a prisoner to my hair. I will accomplish nothing until I have gotten all the tangles out - I fear I will never accomplish anything.
My dad used to plant his strawberries on the railroad tracks down the road- no one owned that land - an old woman used to steal his crop every now and then. Like I said, no one owns land.
I've learned that everyone is miserable, which is both comforting and depressing. Now I know even my misery is unoriginal.
It was so hard for me not to be something "real," like an accountant or computer programmer, but the way that I am, I just couldn't sit at a desk for 5 hours without losing my mind.
A gust of wind came suddenly, and we were in the dark. but we weren't alone. Ticonderoga was there, and magazine inserts, fuzz balls, wrappers, even an old retainer.
The size of my hair changes with the moisture in the air. I have no say in the matter. It is it's own entity, more stubborn than I
Both of the options were unfortunate: piss in the cup or piss in my pants.
Somebody told me I had the most beautiful curls today on the street. I ran into the nearest lingerie store. Homeless men give me the creeps.
They sit by themselves in the bathroom, eating crumbs of discarded Pop-Tarts and lint fuzz they have mistaken for bread. They wonder how they came to be in this soil-less land with no light.
writing since 2012 · 10 entries · 10 days shown up
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landsitfuzzpisshairnowaccomplishthemselvesbathroomeatingcrumbsdiscardedpoptartslintmistaken