nightmare-desserts

[nightmare-desserts]

my bag 3.6.24

[nightmare-desserts]

is it coquettish of me to have a starbucks cold brew sweetened by nothing but the fermented sugar of a girl rotting? white sugars were birthed from the froth of gutter sludge and it flew too close to the sun.

whole foods organic cane sugar, and then a raw honey ruse.

"that's why girls like me sweeten their morning bevi with rose water;” the bottle reads ‘lebanese, premium, best quality.’ “if you’re playing the part of a tuna noodle casserole then keep on with your frappi-mappie gulloping.”

dear mummy,

i want so bad to be a gilded-truffle parmy fry, a unicorn bagel-wagel, or the milkshake’s grotesque; so i’ll feast and break fasts with perfume…

and where was lebanese anyway? because wherever they are, i hope they're okay.

—and before i take my last draw, i want the world to know that i loathe artificial sugars.

croquettes.

[nightmare-desserts]

[nightmare-desserts]

earth goth's on the horizon; i'm charting a course through dark harbor chic waters. brixton sailor cap on, walking with a sailor's gait, while björk's Volta plays through water-logged wired headphones.