wet concrete and laundry detergent are my death row meals.

Some people may talk about liking the smell of gasoline, or hospitals, or dentists, or cigarettes. 

When i bring up wet concrete i dont just mention it like its another hypothetical or a distant thought that i just so happened to remember. I sit there, toes engraving dents on the ground im on, elbows wielded unto my knees and my interlocked fingers on the bridge of my nose. For all you know i could be announcing a person dead to their family members.

When i tell you i am so fucking serious about the power i need to yield to restrain myself from mega knighting a random construction worker who's probably on the 7th our of his damned shift when i have the blessing to indulge in a whiff of wet concrete.

Listen. I live in a hot ass fuck ass country. Im talking sweat under ur sandles, between ur thighs, on ur nose, in ur hairline, in ur eyebrows, on ur lips, on ur knees, arch ur back, up ur ass, palms sweaty knees weak arms heavy mum spaghetti. It, quiet cliterally, got u fucked up. But let me tell you, what appears to quench my thirst is not water, not COLD water, NOT SPRITE, NOT EVEN CACTUS JUICE. Mothers and ladyfuckers, its wet concrete. That shit smells like it'll hold me and call me good girl fuck i could roll my eyes rn.

Anyway im not even gonna get into powder detergent but all ama say is im genuinely (genuinely) frightened for pregnancy cravings one day. It's that bad. no im not even joking ive heard mothers eat chalk bitch i might just have to pop my baby in the dryer dont even play.

Alr kitty out >.<