no title

downstream towards the end goal no tidal

you're self proclaimed and your henna tattoo right above your boner garage isn't a mandala but a mere spiral

live streaming our bodies getting undone onto each other's you're just a groupie waiting to get viral

endless abyss on my computer screen is acting like fire meets gasoline fueling up my migraine touch the grass people where ya at when I need you the most to take me out this hypnosis it's gyral

a therapist is need isn't a therapist indeed couldn't see the needy hookworm that you are through my rose-tinted glasses that your shiny armour actually wasn't marina diamandis it was polyvinal

you faked your credentials when your shit wasn't blowing

could've sworn there was a hunter eyed watcher watching over my sleeping ass in the dark I saw -you creeper -and it wasn't the TV that was glowing

made me swallow your lies all dry since you were out of cum - dry humping every guy that tapped you , and had an inflated behind

there wasn't no garden but you kept hoeing

texting me on Excel spreadsheet and then talk about why this destiny child bitch isn't showing

touch the grass they advised and all you heard was touch the ass