kultcher

"Guise" She's not herself tonight I'm whispering this disposable mantra loud enough so that she can hear but the enduring din of every goddamn thing is like drowning Every sound a murmur She's not herself tonight It's just the fishnets, cat ears the low-cut slut-standard uniform offering room and reason for every eye to roam where only mine should go The Tin Man sets his oily hand to skin She smirks flirtatious through the revelers' drone and I squirm, clenched teeth and clenched fists She's not herself tonight and I'm counting down the pickup lines until she remembers that I'm standing right here The racket dies, a split s