Valentines day at KingsWhat moon, or starry night? whose lights show no distinction and hold its true lovers above the headsValentines day at Kings
of all those looking up, in confused wonder, under its illumination.
I would prefer our dingy, halogen glow and chubby, cherrubiby cherry sampler buddy to offer some
passion in this moonless heaven.
and our ballroom tiled
floor to dance as if on clouds to the lovely musings of recycled 80s trash.
our romantic aisle will hold no coconuts- but sugar, confection, and all the other joys
StuckIt was a tricky intersection i suppose. That yield sign leads the path off to quite an awkward angle.Stuck
The bumper can be replaced, anyway, to see you sprawled backwards across the dash writing sweet little memos along the foggy glass, I don’t regret it.
The moonlight reflects blue across the snowy field we
seem to have gotten ourselves stuck in. Through the glass, painting your frame a lapis lazulis, a gem frozen with that cute little smirk reminding me it’s below freezing and we’l
Mr. Ant crawled up my glassAn ant crawled up my glass today. It was half empty, watered, dangerously near the ledge of the table, and riddled with fingerprints. The ant circled around the rim. It had lost its way, I suppose. I remember hearing somewhere that even the smallest diversion from an ant’s path can render it hopelessly lost. I didn’t care. I had far more important things to worry about then some ant circling around the rim of my glass.Mr. Ant crawled up my glass
Fuck.
An ant crawled up my glass today Pessimistically moist and daring Solving crimes not yet committed.
Zed“Holy shit, dude, what died?”Zed
That burnt urine smell raped my nostrils as we paced down The Village. I can’t help but wonder what those vendors do to the pretzels to make them smell so foul. It feels like a crowded Japanese train here on the street, and oh-so-many skeevy middle-aged men just want to fondle and rape my pasty white ass.
“This is the fourth place, dude, just do it.”
A riced out Honda Civic farts by, it’s coffee-can exhaust screaming to be put out of it’s misery. The tattoo parlor emanated that sort of foggy white glow tattoo parlors like to emit.
The Collective Unconciousaddictive prescription, the risk is an intention not to mention an invention to lessen the tension demented dementions, dementia's relentless lack of sleep attacks and I'm rendered defenseless the end and the begining, i've sinned and i'm sinning days i've spent swimming in living and grinning wishes of lipstick and licked lips flicker and twitch the itch makes me sick, (heartbeat) the quicker it gets summer takes a shift, cool air shakes the senses i'm senseless, menaced by memories of friendship onslaught of distraught thoughts that i'd rather not thought think i thought notThe Collective Unconcious
CaretakerAt 2 a.m. he buffed the dance school’s floor, making sure that the students and instructor arrived to a magically polished and renewed learning environment each morning.Caretaker
He plugged in the buffer and gave a slight bow.
“Shall we dance?”
For a large piece of metal, it was one of the best partners he’d ever had. It always let him lead, he could hold it however he wanted, and it kept rhythm perfectly with a swooshing “rrRRrrRRrrRRrr...” He began taking it along their route up and down the floor.
“Linda told me Ronnie scored two goals today.”
He wasn’t there to see it himself. His schedule
"is this supposed to be erotic?" hahaha.
--
I think I said "Should I have found that erotic?"
which is more to say I found the "vagina consuption of death" thing sexy, not the category of the piece.
I still want to shove a tooth brush up your nasal cavity.
--
wish i had a 350Z... *sigh* and a Skyline R32
cya round
definately.
Style of writing yes,
and style of being too. (I see you in the forums.)
Welcome to DA. You'll fit right in here.
--
Suture Staff.
Previous PageNext Page