Posted: May 28, 2012 at 9:35 amAUTHOR: SheiFunmi
We need to have a sit-down. A talk of sorts. I’ve been doing my damnedest to squeeze 19 hours of a conversation into miniature versions of itself because of your attention span and quick ability to make yourself the victim in all conversations, arguments and peace treaties. I’m just saying I’m finding it hard to communication with you.
I’m sleepy and the French professor I usually cop from is nowhere to be found, so my nose is completely open to new things. Of course it is, the coke came months after falling for you. My nose is wide open, baby. The lines of a high man. Why aren’t you sitting? Why are you staring at me. I will speak the inevitable eventually. I will breath those years back into you. I will let every man after me know that you are a keeper, and I was a fool. I will write your recommendation letters, though I hate them. These are your walking papers.
Oh happy dagger. Pink and yellow pills. White powders and rabbits to boot. Don’t go down that hole after this. Just sit down. Please.May 28, 2012