by now i am quite sure the gossip is thicker than memorial day brisket and the condemnation aimed in my direction is more righteous than IT IS FINISHED on the cross that gets all the press how could you leave your son a month before high school graduation how could you leave the air-conditioned house in the gated subdivision stuffed with dishes towels furniture meat in the freezer guitar in the garage for a british guy you met on myspace in 2008 oh bless her heart there goes misti again running away from home with a million stars spinning in her eyes somehow protected by sexy crazy cool angels whose names no texan will ever be able to properly pronounce
i will send postcards from paris buzzing on stella or something similar the bees in my head dying one bitch slap at a time my heart a carousel seen in several movies because the predictable is so romantic and here more or less is my sentiment in smeared black ink: having a lovely wish you were yes of course it's love that dragged me out of bed across the atlantic to a small town in the uk no influencer would ever vlog i spend my days in bed stoned laughing thrumming with my co-conspirator in bliss we're like johnny and june without the clout and rhinestones and right now feels really fucking good but someday this will end when one of us dies because that is how it works no crocodile tears welcome you never really knew me
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