GlazedDoughnut

Squirrel was your nickname in high school. You were often the oddest person around. Why did you leave that tree trodden campus that you once felt so keen to stay? Why did you linger? Questions plague the thoughts of your mind; twisted wires from a tire now made to mesh. Poison oak, baked into minty muffins, makes you fall asleep, when you need to die. What is it like to think that squirrel is a great side dish to most fish courses? Only you would know something like that. Let the bread and olive oil cry itself to sleep. Remember the films where everyone gets away and ends up with exactly what they wished for? Recall the thoug