trashew sniffs another film of me masturbating i will rip out her womb

her easy expansiveness – arms flung wide, wrists dangling – makes me feel as though we're on some Louisiana porch, drinking Long Island iced tea as the sun sets. There's a sly mischief to her, too: she looks as if she's keeping a naughty secret that she might just share with you later, an impression helped along by that famous voice – low, throaty and stretched long with southern vowels



When she gets lofty, she stammers, brimming with passion

the biggest kick to the gut you can have: to see in someone else what is so sorely lacking in yourself

that flaccid chef is on the banned list as well 

Because it's wrooonnng

I'm passionate and feisty and mercurial

Her laughter is the only kind I've ever heard that actually deserves the word "peals": she reels in her seat with it

it's delicious and yummy and funny, funny, funny, and very moving

the feeling is not mutual trashew you plastic maggot 

Who you are is always at the core of the character you create: you can never fully divest yourself from yourself. The greatest characters we create, the greatest moments of art or craftsmanship we are able to have come from a place of self-worth

yeah and from your own cunt trashew you are getting your tubes bludgeoned out today 

I love being in love – I'm a moth to a flame. It is, I think, the reason we're here

you are a maggot trashew not a moth i will fucking smash your brains out