The sometimes traumatic and oftentimes familiar scent of Eau De Bullshit can come out of nowhere and blindside you with a haymaker, like a fragrant bully whose only goal is to steal the change you've made during the overtime shift of your life. Dinner dates at a mutually favorite restaurant, where you're served an appetizer … Continue reading La Tigre
Heavy-headed, like an anchor plummetting into the depths of the Saturday Blues. You are the sunken treasure, the wreckage in the sand. I ignore the warnings like a Sunday prayer and dive deep, drowning in the obvious.
Brain won't rest. Mental marathon runner. Meds don't work. Alcohol doesn't work. Drugs don't work. Second chances. Third chances. Seven, eight, nine chances. Reruns of the same shitty show. Taken out and played with like an old toy that provides some sort of fucked up nostalgic comfort. Time to collect dust again.
The whiskey glass is wise during these moments of doubt. It reminds me of the bruises on your thighs, purple and obvious against the backdrop of your pale skin. For an extra $6, it refills and says that they weren't made by my hands. Your sentiments hit the ground like ash, falling from an unfiltered … Continue reading
Tim was anxious. He fiddled around with his phone, constantly checking the time. As he nursed a glass of Cutty Sark, he wondered why Terra had chosen to meet up with him at a bar she hated. Every time Tim suggested going to The Hole for drinks, Terra would complain or mutter something about how … Continue reading Tuesday’s News