I’m on my way to another date I don’t care about.
I have a lump in my throat, a heavy heart. All I see is a saggy, fat, reject.
I don’t know who has crawled into my skin; I’m hoping a glass of wine and a charming man will snap me out of it.
I am so ugly. It’s like a stench I can’t get out of my nostrils.
I’ve been doing everything wrong. I should do a cleanse, no drinking or smoking, no men. But they are my nectar and I am their fucked up bee.