Drunk Sunday Brunch Girls


She was no more than a fuck on a

late Sunday morning.

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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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4 thoughts on “Drunk Sunday Brunch Girls”

  1. Love this. It makes you wonder if that is a benefit or a detriment. In one sense, it could be positive in a relaxing, low key way. On a negative way, she could be an after-thought. She missed the Saturday night spot. Great writing in a few words.

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