flirtybirdie
the door. locked inside.
trailer. park. hill-billys with chipped teeth and ripped clothes.
crossing. meeting. hitting. slamming. perfect 4 grids. right angles. sharpness. accidents.
pieces that fit together only when smushed
she stood beside the fence, clutching onto her cup of hot chocolate, watching the events pass by. the starting gun, heavy breathin, pained faces, the clicking of a stop watch. she bit off little bits of the styrofoam and swayed side to side to keep warm.
exchange students. I've been so lazy with these "creative" writings lately. foreign. new, different, lonely. Blehhh.
just like robots, uh God i hate all these mechanical, scientific words. Ew, they make me cringe and just... ehhhhh. I don't even want to write about them, they're just so ugly.
I hate them. All the metal and the.... robotic voices. Ugh. Hate them. Simple as that. I remember iRobot, tha was before the iPods and iPhones. I also remember that funny movie I watched with Nick on his birthday. I went potty twice. It was dumb. Stupid robots.
Acoustic. My favorite. All those old rock ballads. Ahhh. The sound of raging, screaming guitars is great, but when an acoustic song is sung everything is just..... there. Quiet. Tranquil. Crooning voices and plucking twangs. Perfect.
Beer. Hah. Whiskey? What does it even taste like? Does it burn your throat? Send you into drunken sillyness? Is it bitter, or strong? What color is it? Why is it always associated with cowboys and rowdy Southern men? Whiskey. Mystery.
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writing since 2011 · 11 entries · 11 days shown up
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the words flirtybirdie reaches for
sitchairhateleatherwhiskeyacousticvoicesperfectrememberrobotsanimalsuregrandpanowfootballgames