A diet of lemon water and rice cakes holds the promise of svelte limbs and a flat stomach. Faux curls and a touch of rouge only add to the fleeting illusion of youth.
She keeps pushing to do stuff the Big Guy said not to do. I want to satisfy her wishes, but there's some epically bad juju involved when crossing Him. I blame the snake.
Dusty tunnels wend around inside my heart, cutting through the detritus of failed romances. You worm the tender, untouched marrow out of my decaying dreams of love with promises of happily ever after.
It's come down to this - the highlight of my week is watching the wash cycle on the industrial machines at the laundromat. The sketchy guy from 3C is constantly in the laundry at my apartment building, and the Super can't do anything, because technically Sketchy Guy isn't doing anything wrong. I can't do my…
I once luxuriated on a blanket of fragrant rose petals you scattered around our bedroom. Disillusioned, my hands protected by sterile latex, I now use metal tongs to gather skid-marked tighty-whiteys.