Sometimes when I’m jerking off I cheat on my fantasy and start thinking about what groceries I need to buy later

First date idea: we swap genders

Beg your pardon? I’m grown I ain’t begging for shit

I’m a lot like Jazz, I’m all over the place and most people don’t really listen to me

The key to being likable is to put yourself down and be accessible but I’m an idiot and I can’t even do that

I am behind the curve of the stories They dance in my head Sometimes bits and pieces spill out into whatever small thing I am writing

I’m telling the truth when I say I am a liar

I only come out at night. I realize the implications of this.

I made a suicide girl Contemplate life Heroin and sex Was the first date night Too bad we both hated the sober me She spilt her tattoos onto my skin Only gave a fuck when she was over me A heart was not the shape we were in

She watched me shower I didn’t mind She wanted badly to get in with me Into the warmth The smoothness of two bodies But she couldn’t “Too soon”, she said I washed my hair She peeked over the door I washed my body I heard her sigh

She’s scared of her own shadow I hold her anywhere I can Anytime I can We lay there in silence Thinking of beautiful things to say

Foolish ghouls Ghosts exchanging hosts Sinister serenades of conflict Evicting the yearning to exist Dancing in bliss

This is now a poetry only page

Every choice we make is death Kill your darlings And while you’re at it, your ego Die to the world For yourself For all

We’re all capable of murder just some of us are fond of it as well

The key to liking your own writing is to forget what you wrote

She's always been confused About where she wants to be When she feels used It brings a comfort you can't see We're the same person inside She is attracted to what I hide I love her like a song in my head I love her like the wrong side of the bed

She treats me like worn shoes Walks all over me in the pattern of a heart I'm tired of trying to find the clues I'm just not that smart

I write sad poetry for myself The way old men eat antacids Even if it’s not what i need I bust it out regularly As a sort of comfort Because life gets spicy Regularly And I can’t handle it Without some comfort Preferably chewable

I’m drinking. Ask me anything

Don’t sleep on napping

It’s so quiet on Bluesky I can hear myself think

I have achieved the impossible. I had one plate and kept the portions small enough not be over full. Please clap.

Maybe instead of making the Macy Day parade 50 small concerts they should just focus on making one good parade

I like Thanksgiving because it really highlights America’s obsession with food. Nothing like grown men talking about a dead bird like it’s the cure to their depression and can fix their marriage.

If people you don’t like come to Thanksgiving dinner just talk them in to eating too much so they have to poop more later

You’re in her DMs, I’m in her DMs, we’re in her DMs, we should make a group chat

My posse’s on broadway but I’m at home sleeping

The salad days of threads just can’t be compared to

All holidays should be food based

Doper than the We’re The Miller’s camper Funky like the gym room laundry hamper

People say “hey saucy how you been?” And I say “sleepy”

It’s me your boy Saucy Pasta

This one’s about you You could never see that you’re a fire And I can’t forget how to be gasoline No matter how much effort we put in We’ll never get out of this But watch me get gone it’s not without the devastation It’s all I know Turn my white knuckles bloody Over a future I’ll never know

I put the sick in cyclically Well I don’t right now but I will again soon

Poems Like This Really Annoy Me If They Have No Good Reason To Be In This Format

Control is an illusion and that is why magicians are so powerful

Inside you are two wolves and they are gay with each other

Every morning I wake up smart and then I’m dumb again by bedtime

My accusations are on a diet now

Joy is the thief of comparison

When the sheets are soft as baby hair And those restless legs keep kicking I’ll be there like an actor hitting his mark In the movies of your mind Playing this 2$ smile again and again I’ll never mess up another line Because you loved me then

When you’re all alone Listening to music in your bed Feeling big awful sad for yourself And the tears come rolling You don’t even brush them away They’re of no comfort With no one to witness Their wetness as they glisten

I don’t know if I need to put my head between thighs or in an oven

I gaslight myself it’s called being an adult

Fuck my opps for real though (guy at the stoplight that didn’t go instantly when the light turned green)

Girl what that ass do? I bet it bounces harder than my mommas rent checks did when I was a kid

Men in the past: your smile could melt my heart in an instant Modern men: let me fuck them guts up girl

From king of threads to a nobody on Bluesky: the TSK story

My band is called mental and you should hear how heavy the breakdowns are