It’s a mistake that feels good in the making. There’s enough wild left in me I am going to fold the name of fucking up onto the back of my tongue. Yeah, I know better. But come on, now. You know I love to self-destruct.
Me spending hours on a prize claw game that’s rigged to always lose
me eyeing the family-sized doritos bag in the back of my pantry despite the literal dozens of healthy options that are stacked in front of it
Published
We all are stardust 