Dear Sir/Madam who stole my bicycle,
You may open this letter thinking it carries burning malice. Nothing could be further from the truth. You may also think I desire to grab your nano-penis/droopy vagina with two hot pokers and churn them through my bike
"+"
“dusty rusty crusty musty ass california hills”
“frowning in plaid (haunted radios, bird bones + anthropomorphized wind)”
“warming my hands on bridges i’ve burnt”
“songs that make me see god”
“My Playlist #236”
“classy wine moment and intellectual conversation”
“90s heroin chic model off duty”
“tweet tweet bird emoji map emoji”
“not my circus, not my monkeys”
“a grave is probably cheaper than an apartment”
“ATE THESE BITCHES LEFT NO CRUMBS / DID IT IN DESIGNER PUMPS”
