If she has Bukowski on her nightstand she will devour you.

Sorry I am mentally ill.

I watch people.scatter.from the pool.as thunder claps.towels over their heads.as if they weren’t.already wet.but I stay.in the thick air.and let it roll.I feel the quiet.and the storm take shape.I laugh.when it finally hits.because there’s worse things.than getting rained on.

I’m quitting my job to do topless tarot readings on the beach.

Anyone have a shoulder I could cry on? Preferably one with good trap muscles.

the flowers.I bought myself.are dead in the vase.wilting.and fragile.but I don’t touch them.or throw them away.I let them sit awhile.longer.like the ache in my stomach.that I don’t feed.or the sadness in my chest.I don’t heal.I let it be.I observe first.I notice.before I write.

Tell me a ghost story.and this time .make me beautiful.

They should invent a guy who likes you back.

RT @Sandy62347: If we both have red flags then they just cancel each other out, it’s math.

If you’re pretty enough they’ll let you do anything.

Middle age is weird. I’m somewhere between hot girl summer, where I take shots in my bikini, and grandma summer, where I yell at kids to get off my lawn.

This coffee tastes like I have a great ass.

I bet you all thought I was gonna show you my boobs because it was Tuesday. 😂😂.

even his love.had instructions.and .bullet points.included in .his breakdowns.his grief typed .neatly.and well researched.so I didn’t refute it.I let him hold me.knowing there was.no correct way.to hurt less.as long as it got you by.

RT @NatlParkService: It’s not the heat that gets you; it’s the dinosaurs. 🦖

RT @notjustplanetA: maybe she’s a wildflower.

I have 5 references that say I’m adorable and one is an actual man, so I’d watch out ladies.

Ughhh someone else just used the word languid and now all my poems suck.

I don’t want.midnight promises.or my hand held.in the dark.I’ve always been good.at lying to myself. but I do want.a crazy love.one that is.violent .in all the ways.I crave. I want my bones.shattered.but my heart intact.like all women.I suppose. I want a poem.with an ending.

the sexual tension between me and disappearing….

You guys stand naked in front of your refrigerator, eating string cheese, and think about that tank top from last summer you haven’t seen in a while, right?.