Passenger

She exhaled her darkness like constellations.

 

Let Her Go_

Patient Love_

Dr. Dog // Heart It Races

Up to the minute, the minute you’re up.

Newscasters always have really white teeth. The women in this ad are sporting the glossiest, fullest lips that look plump both top and bottom while both of the men look borderline gay; and they know it too well. Men newscasters never have nice lips I think. Jaundice cheeks stretch against big barrels of white cinder-teeth, starkly contrasting against their lack-of-lips. Gone. But you can’t just look at them without thinking what toolbags. But, framed between two hot women makes anyone second guess themselves.

And these women are gorgeous in the B-list way, but something in their eyes twinkles Slut. You can tell they are closet-deviants who like to fuck doggie style with their heads ramming against the back of a couch cushion while their mouths hang open in a slight-drool. The ironic thing is, we need fuckable women newscasters to address the nation. Like “look at me talk about terrible things happening in our world while you are eye-fucking me through my clothes”.

What color is her bra? Does she give good head?
Would she let me fuck her in my Ford Bronco?

All necessary thoughts one needs to consider while sipping hot coffee or trying to settle a very disagreeable morning wood. The kind that hurts because it is stopping you from taking a piss.

Sometimes I confuse myself with a guy. Like, all I think about is sex and fucking while living like a slobby, poor college guy pretending to be someone of significance. I probably think about whether or not I’d fuck a girl more than any dude. It’s just easier to compare women, especially pretending that I’m one of significance. I’ve had sex in enough bathrooms to realize that I’m not the go-to girl for class. Yet it’s always fun, so I try to overlook all the minor details.

The passenger to my left hates me. He may be reading this over my shoulder and guaranteed he wants to punch me in the teeth for listening to this song at least 9 times. 9 times for the past 22 minutes within a quarter’s width from a perfect stranger. My addiction to repetition falls only on music’s Park Place. Pass GO, score two points.

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