gardening

I have weeds sprouting out of my mouth so I drink bleach every night to kill them I keep ripping out their roots until I end up scratching my eyes out My lips have become a gate crowded with groups...

not an apology

I am collywobbly fine and dandy and so supercalifragilistically exhausted from this guilt which feels more like a guillotine that’s swinging round my neck like a crescent sickle pendant engraved with all our sweet talk and my 'I will love...