Toothless
Fat

Hobbit.

Tip toe along a grey road; pick roses; pick plums.

TV on at 3, but most likely youtube.

I told my friend about my burthday.

I feel the carcinogens in my lungs.

I hit a new PR on close grip.

I have thoughts at 2 miles an hour.
I drive a Scion.

I blast suicide boys with my brother to be edgy but really like cannibal corpse.
I won't live to 50.
I'm sorry to no one.
I have a head ache; I cook meat, with hair.
You will one day be proud.
You will dance in
a pool of rain
you will be loved, love like fantasy, not
Truth. There will be roses in the corridor, and
leaves in the cellar like a dim hallucinaton in moonlight