My feet want to write. My fingers want to run. My brain wants to rest between your soft breasts. My cock wants to worry. Everything right is everything wrong. My soul wants the nourishment from a thousand deserts.
Nonsense on the iPhone 1:20AM
Everything Wrong
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Sigh. Get some sleep.
Hang in there. The only constant is change.
i’m totally with you… my boogers want to be flicked by your elbows
Poetry.
That’s some pretty good nonsense.
ya want to join my poetry group…you would have to move to denver…
Loverly.