This is my headache, my migraine. The crink in my neck and the wrinkle in my clothes. The crease in my shoes, the dirt between my toes. This is the chipped nail polish, the bare asses and the barely blossomed tits. This is my tomorrow.
A sort of eruption, explosion, type of chaos that happened so suddenly. That is our friendship. 3 seeds planted on oppisite ends of the garden, all who sprouted seprately and alone, but now, the roots are tangled.
We are one.
