bearing straight corpses and yearly interpretation tunnels weekly
Whisper, and go away. The pain is forcing the blame to take blame. You know I would tell you why, but you are dangling from the memory of a tooth that fell off while you were sleeping in a threaded handbag designed to be shown. The maturity is enough to make me laugh my way into the black corner of memory mode and laugh once more for you still
( Read more... )
Comments 1
yearly... as in my yearly week trips... but yet interpretational tunnels, are every week...
There is something secret about toe-shaped bags
Something hidden, something true...
Wouldn't want to tell lest the smoke moves, breaking the silent air, but smoke always moves, you can see but hearing is even more still.
...
Iam dangling like a tooth in this smoke... please take the breath, and let me fall if I have to, let me chip... let me wake up from inside the toe-shaped bag... don't be afraid to breath or laugh but laugh at memories from the mode, and at the funk of the air that smells like penis'... drying like eyelashes... Laugh and breath, try not to do both time in a sigh towards 'ages' spreading insemination rememebership.
Reply
Leave a comment