I am a washer, you are the village bicycle - a local minimum; this is just recreation. We are just passengers, with no morals to be found. [RIGHT]Was she Greek or Spanish or French or Russian?[/RIGHT] All of the snow makes me feel Christmas-y. When will it end? Primitive universe, talk to me! Intellectual mortality stops me from drinking - stops you from licking the semen stains from my carpet; I never understood why such a fetish would hunt me at night. I found identity in procreation: No moan is a person’s property. No body is a foregone conclusion. I kiss with one eye open to keep away the amnesia.
Last edited by Bleed Away at May 17, 2016,