Girl is a poet.
I crawl as far as my limbs will bear,
My throat lodged tight with acidity’s care.
I croak, my eyes open, in a futile attempt of solace,
Blood.
I cough,
It’s dripping from my lips,
Staining the white porcelain.
I cower,
Panicked as choking constricts my breath,
The taste turns sour,
A whisper of death.
-by me
do u goon
Yes! Nightly x
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY POOK
Still grieving the divorce to the mother of my kids👨🏻🍺
Edit I made a while back😛
real photo of me walking into the pub every wednesday
From Q Magazine, January 2001
Who else getting geeked with their huzz on a sunday night⁉️⁉️
got fucking geeked in the snow.