Basically, she is something of a solid heart with darts of lucrative gold – a smouldering, soldiering hot mess of magnificent magnitude

She speaks whenever we are spoken too, a dime-a-dirty-dozen none so much – that inner, sensuously displayable touch and all of it hers

Forever holding her juvenile adolescently pressed tongue to cut, throat – how do we feel exactly about kissing the electric underbelly, that current of sacrosanct delirium locked shyly within…

Appears to be, appear to me, sweet tender Kristen.
He’s been kissing the plain rain beneath these hot sweaty beads of misbehaving sunshine – Ireland in the skylight and turned on over whiskey glass roller pours

Til they are suddenly strolling hand-in-hand inside of his perfectly inexplicably juxtaposed imagination again.

Prey. Pretend. And glue her news to the wage-old page – one day sooner than they shall ever even begin to think to blink for themselves again. Tripping over their very own layman words at breakneck pace and tasting the flame and all of it upon their deliriously misplaced own… again, a motherfucking unspeakable gaining begins



Midst this plagiarised geni-us

We all of us are, yet she finds it. Owns her whole world. S – t – r – o – l – l – s unc
ont roll ably

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