on perfect Perfect is what perfect does, It molds lies into half-truths, Photo filters and fake smiles.   Perfect is what perfect says, A blonde girl and a venti cappuccino, Half skim, half whip, half-truth.   Perfect is what perfect feels, Like a mask that doesn’t quite fit, A dream half-realized, half -perfect, half-true.


Sleepless still, Not much has changed since my girlhood: Late nights and longer sleeps That drag well into the next day. Lunch is breakfast, Dinner is lunch. Rush hour is 2AM, The hustle and bustle happening in my brain As I scramble about the house, Writing stanzas and washing dishes. Bothering the boys in the... Continue Reading →


“Witches aren’t monsters, they’re just women! They’re fucking women who cum and giggle and play in the night. And that’s why everybody wants to set them on fire ‘cause they’re so fucking jealous” – Ilana Wexler, Broad City, S4:E3-18:30-19:10

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