I’m gonna write a story about a man who dies and goes to Hell. While there, he fights tooth and nail to get to Heaven, and when he finally gets there, he tries to get back to Hell because Hell has sex and heavy metal and Heaven is just this dictatorship where there is no free will (or else they risk people doing “naughty” things).
The phrase “I love you” tastes like poison in my mouth.
It’s okay, because I’ll never have to say it to you.
You’ll never say it to me.
I’d rather leave scratch marks on your back than an imprint on your heart.
My taste in your beard versus my sentiments in your stomach.
Is that so wrong? Am I such a monster?
When you told me I was intimidating, I threw my head back in laughter.
I’m not making a home in you, just staying for a little while.
The rent is pretty cheap, if I’m being honest. And I’m always being honest.
I want you to break me into a million pieces, but you refuse.
Why won’t you fuck me and forget me?
Why do you have to cradle me like a lost puppy?
I’m a goddamn fire blazing through your life and you’re neither feeding the flames
Nor putting me out. This won’t end well.
What girls look for in guys
- brown eyes
- messy hair
- cute nose
- 4 paws
- golden retriever
I’m constantly torn between wanting cute cuddles and nasty, naughty, dirty sex.
Give me a holler if you ever land on nasty/naughty/dirty…