ada connor

Hey boy, are you an out-of-service tram?
Because I don’t want to ride you, and you seem empty inside.

Hey boy, are you a Marvel movie?
Because I feel like I’ve seen you before, and you don’t let women talk enough.

Hey boy, are you a fifth century Etruscan tomb?
Because your veneer is crumbling, and nobility is dead inside you.

Hey boy, are you a subprime mortgage?
Because I don’t understand you, but I have a vague sense that you’re to blame for many catastrophes.

Hey boy, are you a taxidermied owl on my grandfather’s mantle?
Because I’m sorry somebody did that to you, but you’re freaking me the fuck out.

Hey boy, are you the Sacrament of the Eucharist?
Because for a crumby flake, the amount of drama you’ve caused is unbelievable.

Hey boy, are you the feeling of regret?
Because when I leave here, you will not accompany me.