On really romantic evenings of self, I go salsa dancing with my confusion.
A haiku since I’m feeling blue.

The old clock has rung,
I’m turning my back on you.
I’ll miss you, I promise.

The intoxicating aroma of suicide is in the air.

Anonymous: sounds like something a spitter would say!

How does knowing if I spit or swallow have any affect on your life?

Anonymous: spit or swallow?

I’m literally loling

Anonymous: Lies! All boobs are great

Go find another pair

Anonymous: Because boobies

Not good enough