scramble-think: a diary of lies

this morning you called me from london and told me you loved me. and that you’re out of toilet paper. no you didn’t. that was last night. by last night i mean in my dreams. i think we also danced by the water with a german shepherd and a basket of limes. do you still have that white shirt. it used to make your skin look like almonds. no it didn’t. you looked like shit. but then you’d smile. that cheeky grin of yours. stretching across your face like a cat under a tree on a hot june afternoon. remember. remember when we made love under the magnolia tree. i was so jacaranda. you so palm. i never loved you as much as i thought i did. you. a figment of my reality. aren’t all lovers glazed with our own perception. kinda makes you sound like a donut. i think i love myself with you more than i love you yourself. remember the time you blindfolded me and took me to up to your roof. me neither. your neighbor gives me the creeps. i don’t. ever. want. to imagine. what your penis looks like underwater. how about space. my little sister was actually born on jupiter. her birth certificate glows in the dark. cross my heart. sometimes all the time my stomach hates cheese. no cheddar and can i have mushrooms with that please. yes. that’s quite alright. medium well. make it just medium actually. i’m a balanced bitch these days. i don’t drink soda anymore and how is golf coming along. i always found it an elitist sport. come to think of it. i always found you an elitist fuck. have you quit smoking yet. my parakeet just swallowed two spoonfuls of honey and shit now its droppings are crystalized magma scoops fuck get it off the carpet fuck Aladdin said this thing was magic. coffee is gross when your tongue still craves koolaid and cartoons. my family thinks things are a bit off. say drugs. say new york. say leave me alone i’m an aquarius. well me and my sis are very different see. i make intergalactic nuclearpoem papaya pies. and my sister. she just makes sense.

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