Wood, plants, up cycled crates
Content Warning: Depression, anxiety, and mental health.
The way clay spins on the table
Am I too late to grow gills
Aisles of colorful distractionsI never begged for one, for material things, I knew the answer."T-O-N-I-E! And sometimes Y!" I cried when I was lost. She never responded to that, didn't think it was clever. Pudgy sides and gaining bra sizes. Mother's milk is only gallons of vanilla Slimfast. "It's bad, it's rotten." Curdled and chunky now puddled in patchy grass by a temporary line of white garages.My pink Barbie Jeep in some construction cite's pile of dirt. I don't know how she dropped all that weight.. I don't know how much my dad weighs but he's gone too..Colorful distractions, like THAT rainbow flag.Temptations sincerely, Satan. my mother was never a safe place for me.Toy in my hand, "for christmas", I suggested. In exchange for material the sentimental cause Like... I should've already known Santa wasn't real.Santa wasn't real. I cried out from Mariah's legs when I was lost.but I was only a rotten Slimfast puddlebaking on a suburban patch of spray-painted green grass in Tonie's eyes.
Monday: Tiny raccoon child sits on its bed and jams to lo-fi hip hop beats.Tuesday: Transphonic images try to use their chess magic to find a dead name.Wednesday: Dollar Tree declined my part-time application. I can't work weekends.Thursday: Sold my PS4. When you are in poverty, you only own words.Friday: Follower counts show just how many people look but don't leave a cent.Saturday: Words With Friends is nice. The game... not actual speech... My chats are empty.Sunday: What happened to being excited for new Hellboy? The critics drain us.Additional Words: