There’s a guy at my work straight up serial killer starring at me.
If I don’t make it home tonight, know that the dude in the lobster shirt killed me.
Never trust a boy in lobster wear.
I don’t want to be near someone who finds ugliness in my bones.
I want someone to paint each rib a different color and to plant sunflowers in the fields where my lungs reside.
I want someone who thinks my scars are brush strokes of a self-induced civil war mural, and not just marks to indicate my woes.
But I think most of all I want something beyond love, I want understanding.
Because anyone can love anything, look at the guy who married his pillow.
I need someone who appreciates that you need to spend as much time detailing what’s in the shadows as you do in highlighting the focus.
Simply, I need someone who finds beauty from frame to frame.
So there’s this girl who sits in front of me in class.
Always writing stuff.
Today I got super curious and peaked over to see what she was writing.
It was porn. She was penning erotic script.
"He was shagging her but glaring at me with those eyes. His stare harder than his raging ______" (gonna leave her description of a penis out. it was rather flamboyant).
Oh my goodness you guys. I have never laughed so god dammed hard. WHY ARE YOU WRITING PORN IN CLASS.
So many new followers!
Have a Hannibal Lecter themed gift baggy.