Kaisel
One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave
One foot in the grave
Hot honey, it sometimes even looks like normal honey, and it'll always fool you with that first bite full of sweetness, like you've got nothing to fear. Then the heat will come on with an overwhelming bite that leaves you tearing up and choking down water. And yet, it's so good, you'll do it again a minute later.
To think, she thought she could claim she's ketchup, when she lays on that faux sweetness so thick it could leave him fossilized for the future generations to unearth with all his embarrassment in full display. Look kids, it's the idiot-rex, he died of shame when he thought he could hide his obvious chubs every time he held his friend. "Correct, I don't" he says after clearing his throat, serious and dry and unable to look at her.
He smirks at her appraisal, breathing on one set of his nails and rubbing them on a shoulder like it were nothing. "You should know to have faith by now," he sighs playfully, smooching the air in return at her gratitude as he leans back into his own seat, a hand casually resting over the leg she's got on him.
"I promise I will dance with you, I would hate for you to be bored at your own party," he grins, essentially implying she would only have the best time when they were together. "But I don't know why you think I'd be pouting," he scoffs. "I don't pout. I drink my feelings like someone respectable and cry when I masturbate, isn't that what you're supposed to do?" He laughs, and it's no longer clear if he means it or not. I DO think I need to work on my tan before the party though, blend in a bit better. Have you recovered from your stroke earlier?" As in, are you gonna keep your tits holstered and not bring up his cousin and make shit sad and weird again? "We're wearing sunscreen though, I am not going to show up peeling."
To think, she thought she could claim she's ketchup, when she lays on that faux sweetness so thick it could leave him fossilized for the future generations to unearth with all his embarrassment in full display. Look kids, it's the idiot-rex, he died of shame when he thought he could hide his obvious chubs every time he held his friend. "Correct, I don't" he says after clearing his throat, serious and dry and unable to look at her.
He smirks at her appraisal, breathing on one set of his nails and rubbing them on a shoulder like it were nothing. "You should know to have faith by now," he sighs playfully, smooching the air in return at her gratitude as he leans back into his own seat, a hand casually resting over the leg she's got on him.
"I promise I will dance with you, I would hate for you to be bored at your own party," he grins, essentially implying she would only have the best time when they were together. "But I don't know why you think I'd be pouting," he scoffs. "I don't pout. I drink my feelings like someone respectable and cry when I masturbate, isn't that what you're supposed to do?" He laughs, and it's no longer clear if he means it or not. I DO think I need to work on my tan before the party though, blend in a bit better. Have you recovered from your stroke earlier?" As in, are you gonna keep your tits holstered and not bring up his cousin and make shit sad and weird again? "We're wearing sunscreen though, I am not going to show up peeling."
It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor
It's just your shadow on the floor
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
