Rough Trade

Awkers, will I ever have a healthy, normal relationship? Will I ever have a healhy, normal hookup? Or am I destined to have climb-the-fence, alley-behind-the-bar, rough-trade trysts until doomsday? Who am I kidding. What's normal anyways? A social construct based on outdated, Victorian-era morals; THAT's what.


I don't remember if I did all of my drugs or lost them.

I'm at work with the remnants of last night's makeup on.

I didn't even catch his first name.

I don't think I gave my real name.

I vaguely remember his friend standing by and watching.

Would I have it any other way?


-Awk.in.the.name.of.Love[Lust].

...think it o-o-over