Rib-Eye For the Dead Guy

Holy shit pick me. My boyfriend drums and I think you’d dig our sound

… of making love because GOD it’s good and


So I think your mother might have asked you to include
veggies three times a day
Think about it
There’s less protein in a pea

You, I tell you, you need me
To up the substance
I have every metaphor and harmony
I have a throbbing



It’s not so dirty sick wicked fuck
It’s lovely sick loving sick wicked LOVE
Isolate my tongue and beg it bleed
Its words have outgrown its skin
I’ll stretch it until you can look in

another bone
a face to stake a name upon
we’ll name her CLAIRE
I’ll leave her there for you to raise

That would be the sound of the train



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