Yo, what would you do if a meteor hit Earth tomorrow?
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Gurl, no. Nah uh.
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Pregnancy? Nah. This is babies in Year 2157…
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Inter-dimensional flirting. Part 2 of last week’s free write.
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“She woke to excited whispers…” Oh shiiiiiiiyt.
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Love Poem Number 137. Coffee mugs, picket fences, butts :)
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Prompt: WHAT DAT P-M-S BE LIKE DOE?!
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Set in a future, alternative world where cisboys & men menstruate. Do you have a Manpon, bruh?
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The future is bloody…
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A poem I wrote—each stanza is a horny haiku.
It’s about two mystical sluts who meet at a bodega.
A poem I wrote and it’s gay because poetry is gay.
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A poem I wrote for all the birds who ever squawked at me.
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I was front row! Read about it below, spice children!
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