boyfriend has tourette's

dick ass ugh lick butt fuck slut

People like when their opponents are sick and twisted. It’s easy to win an argument if your enemies are medically immoral people. 

You'll never raise an army 

How many t shirts is the ass model pushing
I'll never sell more books
than ice cream I've scooped
Everything is in its natural order

Is trying to want the same as

S is for sponsor who you really should call.

I scrolled through lifeless, overlit live streams as my routine of cycling through the usual forums and apps began. For me, a lot of the attraction came from being able to project my desire onto a performer.

but you know there is a Truth Moment coming, and sure enough the next morning he says hey and you say hey and he says sorry about last night

Do I look erratic
in my Robert Cavalli jeans?

I tell her I want some kissing, one
minute of mat kissing before lesson plans,
emails, dishes.

Dexedrine,
obedient beauty,

a low-calorie
alternative

for excess.

He’s feeding the gift horse / Paranoid discourse

and by the way, I wear jeans too, and I’ll fuck that white girl, absolutely, from the commercial, the camera trails her on the beach, she’s smiling, now she’s hiding behind her hands . . . 

They put her flyer on their mailboxes and look at me like she’s dead.

I pull them apart like a harried cashier, rub the magenta-lined ones on my face, ink my cheeks with toxic blush.

You’re probably thinking these things happened a very long time ago, but as a matter of fact it was just yesterday, and yet somehow we are all old and married with children now, even the former supermodel

My boy on the boulevard bubbling.
Triple wick rip tide in my mind.

He never notices my tears.

Seeing a picture of my tits online didn’t bother me as much as it should have. 

With snot running down my chin, weeping, I allowed myself to entertain the possibility that this key situation would go on forever.

sipping from a can of lukewarm non-alcoholic PBR in between the routine 

He said everyone is going to die except us
 

I tried to remember something my dad told me about Luis Aparicio after Ozzie Guillen made an error in a game in 1991.

Your date’s cologne smells like rancid wine, which should be a good enough reason to bail, but it’s only hour two and you’ve made a commitment.

He doesn’t seem to think I’m a handful. I can tell by his texts.

Well, it’s happened
there is a baby
I just found out 
and he is precious

there is a baby now
and the father is handsome
he has a Sherpa-like
quality that gives me calm

I am comforted:
he

I have to believe that what I am writing — what I am living through — means something.

The Utah girls were already asleep. Unlike me, they were going home in a few days.