11/15/2008

 

it feel good poop

 

She fell folding upon herself like a lake all the arms that curse themselves to sleep. We move that way in chatter box ways, our lungs are perhaps stagnate, out love is bigger.
Our arms fall off with all the strength within them, and slowly our teeth fall outů until they become themselves.
You fuckwads, watch me collapse and reinvent a new trip. I got it all here for you.