that's right we all should write slogan and posters to reveal the tasty disgusting treats inside....

how you could just stare at the momentary fragments of the wonderful breasts in a moment of made up intoxication. how horrific to think we could all blame it on a celestial blackout. like we just decided to walk a certain way and have it be ok with the board and everyone who thinks boobs are great. no really aderaol changes life constancy and the weight of comfort is slightly different than say the boss at midday.

make me breathe again. i cant speak underneath this pressure that weighs on my chest as you lie so close to me... and tell me things i cant hear.... i don't notice your words or your touch or the long long long time spent in the bathroom covering yourself with moisturizer and pleasure at my expense, at OUR expense....

when have we lost our voice? when was it ok to laugh at you exposing yourself to me?

brush that shit off. literally speak. i am not jest or cougar or teen fan club but just me marveling at how many times the magistrate lingers openly wondering whaT I look like naked.

so i sit here listening, menacing hoping it wont hurt my voice as you describe him touching you that way and i want to break every bone in his body my lovely.....

i cant spell or sing anymore. suddenly it becomes ok for beloved to profess things openly online but not to each others spent breaking the fixtures over tom's friends house....why r we here talking about this and not celebrating in justice spent over a natural disaster?

why cant we escape?...why cant i tell him to stop touching my feet and to leave our fucking house we created?: i remember your glaze as you realized he wouldn't leave until you made him so....i felt unworthy of your presence and wondered what had happened to the girl who spoke so openly and protected lies luxurious happenstance,.. sunday newspaper heavy hurricane starlings.

this isnt ok, okay? dont touch my friend ok? just because you gave me aderaol doesn't mean i have to suck your dick ok? i though you were my friend but you were really a kite running morphine laced douchebag...

. lets stop this chat over stella and Guinness. Your look to me spells bristols courage. i have known you years ago as a child when you played cards with such a light light hand....make up stories we will get along faster. i almost puked today as i coughed so hard from ragweed's infestations in long struma youth. i wonder if tomorrow we might hold hands and start over?

my darling... you bare strength and symmetry... and i want to cry for the feelings i have for you. you are so close to sisterdom its almost motherly. it is real or the laced up crystals forming in helplessness? i'm almost overcome with guilt.

tragic daybreak silverdom question our pines and our maples...please allow the surrender supreme for the moment that surpasses is ours at least until the next time.....