sometimes, i stay home in with you so we can fuck. it isn't all about you, not really, but the blur that is desire and the insatiable desire that is appetite and the overwhelming appetite that is a sin and the unspeakable sin that is a blur.
the only real time is when i arch my back and that soft, secret sigh escapes the depths..of what, i know not.
perhaps, wars are fought for this. the cottony fluff ball that hangs suspended in each of us, hoarded like treasure and unknown like god.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
this is the secret that nobody knows
Posted by b at 1:15 PM
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