lovely blooming weed, your seeds that feed my need to breed. You see, I ache for the sake, of taking you in, that internal spin, that luminous grin, that unforgivable sin. I never win. You take me again.
my sister was watching that modeling reality show today and I walked through the living room in time to hear some girl say "what guy could possibly be better than being a supermodel?!"
I can't seem to make it up. It has to be a feeling. Damn it. I have to have silence. I want it out, but it feels like a chore. Something forced
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