his father was a drinker and his mother cried in bed. folding john waynes t-shirts when the swingset hit his head. the neighbours they adored him for his humour and his conversation. look underneath the house, they'll find the few living things rotting fast in their sleep of the dead. twenty seven people, even more, they were boys, with their cars, summer jobs, oh my god. are you one of them? he dressed up like a clown for them with his face paint white and red. and on his best behaviour in a dark room on the bed he kissed them all he'd kill ten thousand people with the sleight of his hand running far, running fast, to the dead. he took off all their clothes for them, he put a cloth on their lips, quiet hands, quiet kiss on the mouth. and in my best behaviour i am really just like him. look beneath the floorboards for the secrets i have hid
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When your mom finds out who you really are
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Don’t cheat on people, because the rest of their fucking life at 1am or when vodka fills their veins all they’re going to wonder is why the hell they weren’t enough for you and it will slowly tear them apart, and just because you aren’t there anymore doesn’t mean it isn’t your fault because every “I love you” that you ever said will echo in their god dammed head and no one deserves that.
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As soon as you think “maybe I can get up early and just finish it tomorrow” you’ve already lost
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Which titty left or right or the middle titty
just wanna get my titty sucked
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