I always make myself out to be the bad guy. But why, did I end up thinking I was right to stay and put up a fight for something that barely had a chance in the dark for one night. You meet someone, get turned up, and start flashing each others headlights. Like that's my life. That's not right, but it feels good. Like I'm looking for a lady in white, that keeps up with me, and can form her own sentences. Not a lady who barely speaks to me, I call her chloroform because her texting game puts me to sleep. Although she has an ass n pussy that keep my knees weak, I can't speak up to tell this bitch to leave me be. Because she fully accepted me even tho we barely talk like a few times a week and rarely meet because adulting at it's peak will have you in full tunnel vision and scared to speak. So fuck you if you think I'm weak because I let pussy push me around without touching me. She curls the toes of my feet in two ways. When she’s with me helping me nut. OR when she’s ignoring me, and I’m running through my own mind what it would be like to swing from a swing made for witches. Without her care for my heart, sometimes I just want to have my last fart. But I’m too smart for that, my wanting to die is the realest lie. If you can’t at least be a friend and care for my heart, then this thing between has to fuckin end.
gummygunk
prguitarman
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
