
Sunday! Sunday!

I don't write. I create.
I love you.
At all the rats in the sewers, if it helps you to reflect on how much of a dick you are.
I’ve paused for 29 minutes.
Lingering around, thinking.
Plotting.
Narrative!
Our universe advises that I should trust you.
You were sent here to teach me patience.
I’m listening.
A fan loves the character(s) you create.
A fan will cheer you daily.
A fan will feel the boost in their ego, that your status brings.
A fan will show love but it will never be the love you believe you’re deserving of.
A fan will smile and obey.
A fan will pose and snap that moment, every day.
Where was your fan when you were in the gutter?
Where was your fan when your shit hit the fan?
Where was your fan when…never mind.
Personally, I’m not sold on your celebrity – K. Lamar
May the many creative writers within our universe encounter my existence.
May the many creative writers within our universe break free.
I follow the stars.
I worship my heartbeats.
I’m not your fan.
I’m a bomb in your lifeline.
Rest In Peace
I wholeheartedly trust in our universe.
Bite.
Pinch.
Pull and suck.
Preparation is key before we fuck.
#Foreplay
Inside me.
I’ve evolved.
I kissed November and it bore me a star.
I birthed a star and wished upon it.
It cried during the day, as I was blinded by the sun.
I kissed you through November and won!
♥️
Noises.
I hear everything and nothing.
Breathing too loudly.
Fearing what’s behind closed doors.
Longing for your hugs.
I miss you.
Rest easy.
noun
Every Sunday, an anonymous caller.
Did we argue in a past life?
Are you some weird stalker?
Do you hate my voice?
My purpose is to…
Your purpose is worthless.
Be there for you.
Read more of this content when you subscribe today.