The lost generation.. Part two. A Chapter by Coyote Poetry When you know only shit. Can you make shit taste good? War. Is shit. The lost generation. Part two Tonight I drink my whiskey. Gentleman Jack had become my favorite. I dreamed again last night about a soldier.
(i actually love so much to write post-canon driftsey dealing with the war and being married, like, doesn't matter how much fucked up they end up, i'll have these)
на тортилью выложить омлет, сверху риет, свежую зелень и полить бальзамическим соусом - свернуть в ролл и обжарить на сухой сковороде до корочки 10/10! сохраняйте себе 🫶🏼