He didn’t enter my residence, he crash landed
He didn’t set the scene, he just demanded
And I with holy wings unseen
Dropped with lightning to my knee

He didn’t knock, he just flew in
He smelled of all the things I loathe, I hope he comes again
How my tears befuddle beneath my feet
It took a demon to feel complete

© Delia Ross. 2021 / @poeeternal

I don’t know what to do anyway and they all want a porn star or pro dominatrix or my hand in marriage. 👀

That’s why no one is joining my OnlyFans during its flash sale, right?

Too inexperienced, too real, too much of what you need…

*rolls eyes*

Right now , as my numbers slowly decline, I’m facing the fact that one day there won’t be anybody there at all.

But I’m glad to see that every other girl in the world is doing so good on their OF. 🦕

I’m gonna stop crying soon because I got a really cute set I want to do for my subs.

And I was afraid to even try it on because I missed an entire week of working out which is also contributing to my loathiness.

But whatever. New poem.

And new set coming soon to my OF because I wanna spoil my subs.

I mean it was just 4 days ago that I was visited by the Holy Ghost.

I’m feeling pretty inspired (ignore the self loathing woes)

It’s just my ovaries not wanting to die on the street yet.

But my mind is like, “why do you keep putting yourself through this emotional mental torture prison dieeeeeeeee”

My therapist is like “you need to stop ignoring my calls and take your prescription“.

My voice is like, “LEAVE ME ALONE, LET ME DIE”

My primary care doctor is like, “your temperature and blood pressure are really low, bed rest”

COVID vaccine is like, “rest HAHA FUCK YOU”

The love of my life (or someone) is like, “hold up, I got you” *suspends me in a dimension between heaven and earth*

And that is all entirely from just this week and it’s not even Sunday yet. 👀

And despite the fact that nobody wants to join my OnlyFans during its first 50% off flash sale (lame) – I’m only focused on getting this new set out.

Because of you, I’m not yet obsolete.

I’m not a fucking dead dinosaur. Yet.

Guys always almost always instantly put me into a “married zone” – even though they call it a friend zone- And then when they don’t get what they want from me they say, “We can’t be friends because I like you too much”.

Now days they just stop supporting you, liking your content, you know the silent treatment and the ghosting.

And it’s completely acceptable for a business to do this to you as well.

THIS IS HELL.

So when I stop crying about the fact that I’m gonna wind up dead on the street, I’ve got some color to put out.

And I’m sorry I’m not a pro dominatrix, I’m a fucking warrior poet, just like Edgar Allan Poe.

Never really heard him talking about his M16A2 assault rifle- But maybe that’s because the technology didn’t exist back then and maybe he’s a better writer because he existed in different fucking times And was in love with his actual family which I can’t stand.

He loved his family so much that they tossed him in an unmarked box in an unmarked grave.

(My family would rather gaslight you and make you believe that I am the love of their life even though I don’t even have a fucking identity)

I don’t even exist.

NarCs. 👀

Wolves in sheep clothing.

Bah

*sucks thumb*