relationships

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She’s fucking crying again. I can’t stand it when she cries.

A social cause I care about…
Finding out what the hell happened to Matthew Perry’s sweater vests from the early seasons of Friends.

Soft fingers danced with threads, step by step, sorrowful butterfly

In domestic situations I remain estranged, uninvolved.

I drove slowly down the dirt road in my girlfriend’s mother’s jeep on one spare tire now, worry thoughts flooding my mind.

I collect my tears in mason jars akin to those that catch the leaks of rain from my window sill.

Brush the teeth harder than usual, having gotten no more than three or so hours sleep the night before.

She’s not my girl, he says on his podcast, She’s, uh, doing the Lord’s work for me.

Lydia’s replica is downstairs washing dishes.

It’s a boring job, there’s no denying that, but then again, things could be worse.