hungryI have lots of male friends that I don't fancy, Matt, Daniel, David, Davis etc.
I've been reading my shitty poetry that I wrote on my Deadjournal a couple of years back.
I liked to pick purple daisys, the ones that bled, the ones that died, the way i would have died for you, withered and cracked, faded and crinkled. I put the daisys in a jar, poured in lead, bound them forever, they drowned that day. My perfect daisy chain.
