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That shit in real time


Do you remember when I called? It was the next day and you asked me how I was doing. I told you that last night, five-thirty-sixish I got punched in the gut. Oh, yeah, then, (btw, you love commas), you said we just went to dinner. And, I said huh…
Your reply: well, ah, and we just cuddled, nothing (total bullshit) more.
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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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