clare rocks my socks. gorgeous. rocks my world. 3rd floor parking garages, wind in your face, painted wet lines, and your skirt meeting your face. red lights, constantly slowing you down, taking a drag, whilst such great heights is blasting in your ears. the light jumps to green, the wind in your face, your 3rd wheel status slowly beginning to sink in, but you'll live. the hyundai covered with cigarette boxes, and the smell of smoke lingers over the seats covered in a down jacket in the middle of the summer. the swings wrapped around the poles, dripping with water, sitting on a pelican after dusk threatening the lightning as it scolds you back, your pants are wet, but you still have that playground, with your two lusty friends, and your status of being a real man, due to what you smoke. this is all you get out of it. welcome to suburbia.

♥ katie.

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