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"Couldn't she move a little faster, on her feet, and less with her mouth? And they tell me to slow down. But on my feet, or in my mind? Let's talk about clouds, and the weather, anything to change this awkward storm. Anything to stop this stupid lamp from flickering. Out. Anything to keep my eyes open and alert. The phone keeps screaming, shut it down, don't want to hear a sound, all I want is more coffee. And more touch. And more feel. More comfort. Television headache, and the aspirin is out of reach, across the ocean, and I've lost my boat. I don't know where my head is either. Not much help here. I need a nap, but my body is stubborn, she doesn't want to stop moving. Stop feeling. No more touch, please. Yes, cream please. Shut the ******** up, please. Do the dishes, please. Kiss my a**, thank you. And she called me sarcastic, but I'm being so honest it hurts. My whole body hurts, but that could be from the lack of affection. Oh well, I'll blame it on the honesty. I'll blame the angry phone calls I received on honesty too, well fitting. Short shorts, longer skirts, and flannel shirts. Ya busted. And don't think you're the s**t, because I was the one that brought the lumberjack back, b***h."
Mary Jane
18 years young
& depending on the weather, I'm a changer.
Check it- http://cbones.deviantart.com/
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