back atcha, stripes. they really don't make 'em like you no more–– both morse code music library 'n merciless billiards shot in one is maddening.

the brain matter they scrape off the surfaces of my place'll be sent to your doorstep before sunrise. shape of the box should erase doubts' shadows. hmmm?

'n here i was thinkin' over 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 cuttin' off access–– a lamb straight to altar approach, lose the middleman. he's imaginary, plus eye to eye entertains me more.

oh god oh fuck baby im close

the line between a compliment & cannibalism is mighty faint, ain't it? (thank you, love.)

joe exotic imma need you to exit the premises.

bet, baby. (since you shot me this on anon, imma randomize some coordinates 'n pull up with fingers crossed i'll catch you there. unless—)

sixx 'n lucky. you ain't gonna catch me slippin'.

can i steal this pickup line

y'all got me fucked up.

babe, i only disclose this on the second '[WHO KNOWS] & chill' sesh. the reaction's always too good to grab the megaphone. ask me straight 'n say you shot this over, 'n i'll make an exception.

tell your friend i like to flip a coin.

LMAOOOOOOOO. thank you, love.

this is me talkin' to you––– let's hear your list. (the plurality's bold enough to make me peek up off the bench, btw. you got faith in me is wild.)

like an asshole usually