”Sounds perfect to me —- I’ll become the queen of Mexican mojitos or something.”
”I’m just gonna be Queen of –– Queen of everything. The Queen. And I’m gonna steal a bunch of hot sauce too. Hey, make me a mistake before I have to go talk to more paying idiots.”
’ Ay —— girl with the —- yeah, you.
You didn’t eat my donut, did you? ‘
“Your donut –– what, did you carve your name in it?
I ate a donut that had no allegiance to anyone. It was delicious.”
”I knew it, you’re hoarding them, aren’t you?”
”They’re selling for two dollars in some places. Fuck yeah I’m hoarding them.”
“Tell me about it — I don’t even have enough left for my drinks, let alone for trying to look fancy and sophisticated.”
”Fuck this place, let’s just go to Mexico and join the vigilantes freeing the lime trucks. Take over this lime war and become the new lime monarchy.”
”I’m gonna murder the next customer that asks for a lime in their fucking club soda.”
LETS PLAY THE “TYPE THESE WORDS IN YOU R TAG BOX AND POST THE FIRST AUTOMATIC TAG THAT COMES UP” GAME: DIRTY WORD ADDITION OKfuck, shit, dick, no, hell, sex, damn
Above my bed
hangs a dream catcher
braided by my father.
I don’t know how,
because his hands are sewn from thick leather ––
nimble with a buck knife and hammer
but do not seem gentle enough to twist a spider’s web so delicate
it captures his daughter’s nightmares.
My father is a hunter and a carpenter.
My childhood memories are of gutted carcasses
hung like wind chimes and venison cut into butterfly wings;
the smell of sawdust is comforting
When I was little,
we used to hike up the mountain behind our house,
both dressed in matching long johns.
My middle name is Fawn: completely his idea.
I would run like his deer
for fear of getting lost without him.
sadly refusing to open up a piece of mail does not deny the existence of the shit that is inside of it