*CLICKY CLICKY*click on the Melancholia above, one heavenly body reveling in and bathing in another heavenly body, for #2 of 5, festive-colored hurricane spray paint portending something...CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK, FOR THE FINAL WORLD TOURi love you, you hate me, anal feelings set us freethis isn't a game, this happened to mewe lock together in love, connection, sex, and rage, we come to the classroom of your eastern bedsheets, we fuck like there's no tomorrow, there is no tomorrow, our bodies build up sweat as your raven fiery-red ashen-brown hair swings wildly until i clutch it, pull it, saddle it, we grunt in animal unison, her hands clutching the bedpost, my hands clutching her ass cheeks, my cock tented enough to form a smooth shiny shaft, poled hard, long, and straight, she arches her back as i'm inserting it into her asshole for the final play, we love hard, the media coins/ as we love hard, we've lived hard, and she spouts out at this anal time all of the things she despises about me, i'm her container for all that is wrong with the world, but i take it, we fuck and reveal truths as we fuck, now it all comes out in juices, the juices dissolve the hard-shell lies until there is only revealed truth, bandages off, only the white morsel of truth, rare, bare, hurting/i take it all in, i love you more, i love her more, she is my connection, my threadbare wisp to another soul before Melancholia hits Earth, she's my sounding board, i can take it, i've been hated all my life by the world anyway, what's one more? i will take the blame for your father and your failed acting career and that my book sold more copies than yours, it's not about love or hate anymore, humans don't know how to express these grand concepts, but we do know how like animals to confront one another, say hi, shake hands, lick faces, sex our holes up, and kiss, that's how we interact/and like the creatures that we are, animal instincts come over me as i cum all over her pert ass, i go from strong alpha male to crumbling child in the fetal position, i fall off the bed and into my own pool of the past and what i should be mad about and spew forth to her./ should i be angry? angry anymore? mad at a world that is almost over, gone never to repeat again, this human experiment writing its epilogue/my mother's gentle advices quashed by daily news reports of brutal wars and money-making conflicts and the neverending attempt at religion/my mother's keepsake of a dancing circus elephant around my neck squeezing my neck to snap me out of it, that dancing which seems so out of the past, out of place now in the now/i try to speak, but i can't breathe, i'm in water, struggling for air and peace and identity, it's all i can do to react to the next news report of doom or my lover's scowl...in the distance, soft music plays, it's the strains of a violin, strumming not for little old me and my pathetic ramblings, but a part of a distant star song, and i feel fine...swimming, paddling for the next breath, the next stroke...CLICK HERE FOR THE NAUGHTY HANGOUT.
THE LATE PHOENIX: I WANTED TO BE FAMOUS. INSTEAD, I HAVE THIS BLOG.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
TNH: I LOVE YOU AS YOU HATE ME
*CLICKY CLICKY*click on the Melancholia above, one heavenly body reveling in and bathing in another heavenly body, for #2 of 5, festive-colored hurricane spray paint portending something...CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK, FOR THE FINAL WORLD TOURi love you, you hate me, anal feelings set us freethis isn't a game, this happened to mewe lock together in love, connection, sex, and rage, we come to the classroom of your eastern bedsheets, we fuck like there's no tomorrow, there is no tomorrow, our bodies build up sweat as your raven fiery-red ashen-brown hair swings wildly until i clutch it, pull it, saddle it, we grunt in animal unison, her hands clutching the bedpost, my hands clutching her ass cheeks, my cock tented enough to form a smooth shiny shaft, poled hard, long, and straight, she arches her back as i'm inserting it into her asshole for the final play, we love hard, the media coins/ as we love hard, we've lived hard, and she spouts out at this anal time all of the things she despises about me, i'm her container for all that is wrong with the world, but i take it, we fuck and reveal truths as we fuck, now it all comes out in juices, the juices dissolve the hard-shell lies until there is only revealed truth, bandages off, only the white morsel of truth, rare, bare, hurting/i take it all in, i love you more, i love her more, she is my connection, my threadbare wisp to another soul before Melancholia hits Earth, she's my sounding board, i can take it, i've been hated all my life by the world anyway, what's one more? i will take the blame for your father and your failed acting career and that my book sold more copies than yours, it's not about love or hate anymore, humans don't know how to express these grand concepts, but we do know how like animals to confront one another, say hi, shake hands, lick faces, sex our holes up, and kiss, that's how we interact/and like the creatures that we are, animal instincts come over me as i cum all over her pert ass, i go from strong alpha male to crumbling child in the fetal position, i fall off the bed and into my own pool of the past and what i should be mad about and spew forth to her./ should i be angry? angry anymore? mad at a world that is almost over, gone never to repeat again, this human experiment writing its epilogue/my mother's gentle advices quashed by daily news reports of brutal wars and money-making conflicts and the neverending attempt at religion/my mother's keepsake of a dancing circus elephant around my neck squeezing my neck to snap me out of it, that dancing which seems so out of the past, out of place now in the now/i try to speak, but i can't breathe, i'm in water, struggling for air and peace and identity, it's all i can do to react to the next news report of doom or my lover's scowl...in the distance, soft music plays, it's the strains of a violin, strumming not for little old me and my pathetic ramblings, but a part of a distant star song, and i feel fine...swimming, paddling for the next breath, the next stroke...CLICK HERE FOR THE NAUGHTY HANGOUT.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
The next stroke is all that matters, moving the body forward, fusing flesh to flesh.
Gloriously complex and carnal, babe...
cheeky: wait 'til next week, you're gonna really think i'm on the good stuff. to be fused to you, my darling, is even better than the channel FUSE...
Post a Comment