I love that you make my drinking feel small because, of course, you used to trade bitcoin,
and propane is your suicide,
and your anger.
I love your anger.
I love the steering wheel twinkling in your black eyes,
and the leaping traffic, and our solemn pessimism.
and your evil,
your self-described evil.
I love your evil,
your smug evil.
You could climb roadside ditches, I bet, if the downfall provided
fruit. I love your snakes, and the cackles of snakes,
and your evil.
You have this modest evil,
feinted coats, and no soul,
nor any like of souls.
I want you to continue
to welp my drunkenness into your narrative,
yes, sublime love carries, lovely, Hypocrite fonts.
I love that you make me your best friend, by tell and not show,
by making me laugh. Through fear,
and your happiness,
most of all I can't breath without
your happiness.
I love your melted joy,
and your anger,
I love your anger;
you're too close to me.
Jul 20, 2025
Jul 20, 2025 at 6:28 PM UTC
I love that you make my drinking feel small because, of course, you used to trade bitcoin,
and propane is your suicide,
and your anger.
I love your anger.
I love the steering wheel twinkling in your black eyes,
and the leaping traffic, and our solemn pessimism.
and your evil,
your self-described evil.
I love your evil,
your smug evil.
You could climb roadside ditches, I bet, if the downfall provided
fruit. I love your snakes, and the cackles of snakes,
and your evil.
You have this modest evil,
feinted coats, and no soul,
nor any like of souls.
I want you to continue
to welp my drunkenness into your narrative,
yes, sublime love carries, lovely, Hypocrite fonts.
I love that you make me your best friend, by tell and not show,
by making me laugh. Through fear,
and your happiness,
most of all I can't breath without
your happiness.
I love your melted joy,
and your anger,
I love your anger;
you're too close to me.
from february 26, 2024
poem from the past a day #62
a much more sober rant run through with a very healthy amount of sarcasm
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