you have been given a direct order to give a direct order to the next shotgunner in your car. inform him as you’re pulling out of the driveway and onto the road that the exact moment the tires say ‘farewell’ to the ramp and ‘fancy running into you here’ to the interstate, he will press play and this song will begin. this cannot be your duty, as you’ll be too preoccupied with fumbling for a light and remembering to keep consistent foot-pedal contact. this is his duty. administer it wisely.
elizabeth. seventeen and curious. if you need me, i'll be inside the chuck e suit.
I have here, for you, our rose-prose. The words that flew, unabashed, from my open wrists, my unclenched fists, when my leaden lips hung listless and unwilling. We’re quieter now, and our needs are magnified. But these few mayhaws are sweet and rotting and I want you to have them. Follow along with me and let’s pretend, for once, that my tones are dulcet and I wouldn’t stammer if I were reading this aloud.
Theme by Monique Tendencia
