I'm gonna write down whatever I want.
I love Charles Bukowski. I would've been one of those girls who crawled through his window and drank whiskey with him before letting him **** them.
I laughed because I'm drinking at 6:44 a.m.
I swear I'm not crazy.
It's still dark outside.
I'm buzzed and that makes me chain smoke.
That's why I could never stop smoking. Drinking. It just feels so good together.
I'm pulling on my hair. Oh no. Today I felt really down about it. I looked in the mirror and hated what I saw. I have no bangs left.
This isn't a poem. It's just nonsense. Sorry.