Spinster

short-shorted piggy-bunned riding that baby blue bike through the grass fronts of small business and edges of town on a monday day. — no one knows you’re 27. pedophiles eye you, suspiciously, that you know how traffic functions.

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Addiction: Middle Management of Capitalism

exertion charred lungs feel good after branding, though spin class is actual hell. endorphins, you are not booze or coffee, but you are okay [for now] — suddenly there is so much more to do. Not addiction constrained to certain locations everywhere is a place to be; my body, unhooked from IV free to explore.…

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“oh, They Must Be Masturbating”

My actual thought if I see someone is: -sitting alone with sunglasses on in a parked car at any park, -sitting alone in a hotel hottub, -me, -peewee herman. — i just left a sweat mark on a brick wall, a brick mark on a sweat back, and not even from anything fun.

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Calling Center it Quits

Hello, cartoons I kept on my desk. you are fired for not keeping me happy enough to compensate for the dreaded capitalistic decline.

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january

An amount of snacks more fulfilling than my sex life right now would be –any. massacre me With bath bombs. The scruffy males Have made a formal announcement –they will not have me. And the ones that will think golf video games are entertainment or Will decidedly die beside a woman more evil than I. — It’s not answers…

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tightly woven

he’s got these women he weaves in and out like shift work. never touching, always brushing forces Uncommunicably; filling the gaps his miserable lonliness awake he can’t bare to face. son of god, trapped on that fabricated temple of entertainment, never wanting to be bothered on your time. says it’s easier to fall asleep with…

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