Monday, 14 March 2011


The sweat pouring forth your pores stinks of puberty. You sit and devour a peanutty chocolate bar. You walk the rest of the way.

His hamstring is stretched to the point of no return. It snaps in two. He regrets signing up for hot yoga.

Her life partner cuts her hair short as a sign of love and pride. She is no longer attracted to this short-do'd lady. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Their bottoms graze as they bend to sit on the toilet. He wishes she didn't drink those three cups of coffee today. She realizes this toilet was made for one.

1 comment:

  1. this is about me? 'cause i don't ever walk any of the way.