Gathering acorns


Lyft driver with his junk flopping side to side as he shifts gears. I watch him palm the grip, his thumb half erect. Acutely aware of exposing himself with every release of the clutch; I hope his right ball sack would roll out and I cup it to my lips. Tis’ the season for gathering acorns.

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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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