yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


cocaine. he's got cocaine. he's got murder and sex and drugs and i want to put my hands through his hair for letting me fill my nose with something that wasnt girls in nice dresses and boys spinning around me in tuxes, boys i want to take home and have sleep at my feet. instead, it was hands across his chest and nails on his neck and tongue in his mouth. i made coffee in his kitchen with the cracked tile countertop and lime green cupboards. while he wasnt looking i was hovering over the tabletop with a rolled dollar bill. i'm in the mood for a melody.
d-land