Bard
tact for loversI remember when I'd hold her, and she'd curl until she ached, like the reflex retch of a gut wound.tact for lovers
I'd drape my hands across her miles of desert holes and sandpaper skin, and tell her loving lies just to keep her listening.
I'd whisper words and petri secrets, through a throat of raw effluvium, while she'd suckle like a child on the bile of melancholia.
I learned to moan to keep her trying, when she'd regress for my amusement. Fingers twisted tightly in the waves of her cascade,
ruby red like a typhoid rash. She'd gag until she sweat som
The Last DayOur hero wakes, the final notes of a dream slowly fading from his mind. He notices the slight smell of salt air in his imagination, but can not recall why before it fades into the quiet gloom. The darkness of his bedroom is the only indication of the passage of time. He tries to remember if the sun was up when he drifted off, but again his memory fails. He lies there, for an eternity.The Last Day
There is a brilliant pounding behind his eyes, as they rest idly on the blackness above him. The pain gores his thoughts, like a weakling spit, unable to finish the job. He sees himself there, roasting slowly over an open flame, and his jaw ac
bloat and bother
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~Visit me! I have toast!
My awesome website: [link]
My LiveJournal: [link]
*may contain toast related products*
The King
The king wants the rabble to know that he sometimes feels bad that he eats well while they eat crow.
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Wet Slit And A Bottle Of Whiskey
The King
The king wants the rabble to know that he sometimes feels bad that he eats well while they eat crow.
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Wet Slit And A Bottle Of Whiskey
The king finds no solace in the face of humanity.
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Wet Slit And A Bottle Of Whiskey
Write it down, clowns. Your time will come.
The King
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Wet Slit And A Bottle Of Whiskey
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babbo loves rock.
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babbo loves rock.
thanks alot once again.
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