Stares and Fright.
..but si when people look at me, they think me ni punk. Yes, because you’re very pretty. You giggle; it’s throaty. Like a laugh that won’t grow up. You want to talk. I want to stare. Yeah.. but you know I don’t like it. What? Being pretty or people staring? You look daggers at me. What do you think? Duuh! Silly. The staring. You slap my thigh. It stings. I perish the thought. Lucky me. My jeans are freshly scrubbed. You sit beside me, thighs touching. Yeah.. that’s why I pass here. My bro showed me this chuom here. Haina usororaji. True..this is better. I also really don’t like being watched. Now pass me my blunt. I dab silently, I’m thinking of you. The chemical euphoria slowly gives way to a silent calm. You know I’ve never had sex? Waaaah!! I’m patronizing. You must know I won’t believe. You feel you have to tell me, I listen. I just feel like I should start when it’s right. But I know Stoner chicks are kinda loose. I don’t mean to be belligerent. I assum