Stupid 


My body is a temple.  I know you had me months ago.  You can try and forget, but the memories are still there.  The clock is ticking, your urges are yearning, and your words are turning heads.  I spun.  I may just do it again.  You lied.  I cried.  The stupidity of it all. 

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Published by: her mourning coffee

Walking a fine line between genius and insanity. My words are raw, sometimes visceral, and vulgar.  I write to settle my thoughts.  I have triggers that extract emotional immaturity, deep- rooted fears, anger, insecurity, vulnerability, yet I heal with every stroke of the pen.  I might be that monster.  I sometimes scare myself.  Please keep this in mind as you read.  I do not wish to provoke you, though stories need to be told. *not all posts are in real time

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