Like, my dick just shrivels to nothing when women assert their intellectual muscle; their capacity for independent thought. You don’t mean that. Silence. But you don’t know what I mean, do you? You’re not even real. If you were, you probably wouldn’t waste another minute going round and round with me, would you? You overthink everything don’t you? What does that even mean? How does one overthink, pray tell? Where is the line between thinking and not thinking at all? Why are the prefixes necessary?
The Trashcan Fire in My Heart