she is a fucking menace, a plague running through the streets. she plays pretty and nice and she whispers sweet love but then she fucks you till you're fucked over and she sucks you off till your soul is sucked out and when you come and when you come to her, angry and loud, she pouts prettily and cries because she wanted a little more fun, and when you spit in her face she spits up, but there is a vitriolic smile in the place of a wobbling lip, and all she does is critique your work. she is a fucking menace, running through the streets leaving protesters and those infected with vile romance behind.
i'm doing #DareToWrite and have currently written 8 poems, filled 9 prompts, and have another 22 lined up, and then plan to do another 100 at least. it's been a pretty productive week. this is the first one.
