it's a can of peaches, sir

when people talk bad about cargo shorts i feel so unsafe

like sorry you hate my boxy silhouette and practical pockets

omggg can i break into the top secret lab where you’re being held and sneak into your test chamber and unhook you from the machines and carefully pull the needles from your body and carry you out and try not to think about how much weight you’ve lost even though you’re sooo light in my arms. can i smuggle you into a crappy pay-by-month motel room with the last bit of cash i can track down and wash you up in the chipped shower stall and tuck you into the cheap motel blankets as your body starts to flush with fever. can i stay with you as your body burns off the last of what they did to you. can i steal from vending machines and the continental breakfast and bring food home to you and coax you just to eat a little, a little more. watered down tea kept warm at the kitchenette. can i sleep next to you every night to keep you from going cold again, wait breathlessly for your eyes to open again. can i be there when they do