One urgent press of my crumbly stick —a drag, a mark on pulpwood fiber— and your bleached, watermark'd world is marred by my desire.
The making of my line saturates, and I Brando. I taste minerals. I maraca. I floor it.
Everything goes. Even him. Even her. Even-stephen. Bye, you! Best goodbye!
mmm...I calm down. We will pretend this moment is forever, you and I, or I will...
This is a password protected blog, please kindly enter the password into the password field below to view the blog.