That’s my actual tongue circa 2014 in the photo. I thrive on bad choices.
You have to listen to “Dead Friend” by Against Me! when you read this poem. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.
Third time’s the charm.
I have no idea how many fingers are on his alien hand
What does it take…?
Sappho’s makeup, alcoholism, selfies, and my mom–in that order.
Write one song for me.
Another poem about rape
Like the track marks on our embroiled, addict hearts…
One time, I went on a couple of dates with a heroin addict who had a domestic violence charge.