French toast at noon.
Every summer, every winter.
In the thick cerulean light of evening
A dyke astrophysicist’s dream
I pray to any god who will deign to hear me.
That’s my actual tongue circa 2014 in the photo. I thrive on bad choices.
I wish I could just starve all my problems away.
It’s fucking loud in here.
Marina and the Diamonds
Virginity, lifeless miscreant!
Why would you ever deign to approach me
when your only aim was to trample my naivety?
More than one person close to me has suggested that I might be a sex addict.
I get so jealous…