the giddy love shakes of the first three quarters of this year are only eclipsed by the series of lows of the last quarter.
102 fever. glass in the joints. sandpaper lips. ice sweats. dizzy falldowns. no comfort but bed and blissful oblivion.
things'll only go up from here.
*nervous laugh*
right?
102 fever. glass in the joints. sandpaper lips. ice sweats. dizzy falldowns. no comfort but bed and blissful oblivion.
things'll only go up from here.
*nervous laugh*
right?