nicotine stained fingers strangle this feral pen graphite blistering erupts stanza before stanza a cattle prod of introspective thought myelonic mind release testosterone caged freeing sub-conscious blotting the ink-stamped page.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.........................sweet, sweet sin. I believe in a thing called the future.
Simple and deliciouse, like the heart of a starfish. Indifference begining to melt. Ready to be hated.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.......................sweet sweet sin. I believe in a thing called the future. Simple and deliciouse, like the heart of a starfish. ready to be hated.