you have the hands of a young boy and the face of an angel.
I do not know what to do you and your life.
you give me the impression that I have to be nicer to you, and with others too, but I especially want to hurt you, to get dirty, to see if I get to make you push your limits. you force me to deal with this morbid desire I want to kink that is beautiful, your words to ruin, destroy what you project.
secretly, I want you to be patient enough to stay until I finish speaking evil and spitting. and there, maybe I would look to pick up a paper lying on the sidewalk in order to recycle it. I get to compliment your mother on her recipe for stuffed peppers instead of enthroned at the table like an old statue. Suzanne would offer to take her home rather than let her take a taxi.
and then I feel your big blue eyes set on me too. you'd be proud, proud as a dad who watches her child graduating from kindergarten. you'd be very glad to see that I reached a milestone, but I know, I already know I should have done it all by myself, but I still have so much to accomplish.
I do not want more than your tolerance or your voice that never shouts or be your newest project . you would be remiss of me / you / we reduce to this, but I would say anyway, so that you get angry and you strum a few joints of your hands too slick. I eat meat in front of you and I would drink three, four, seven glasses too, until no more can you see me in such a state.
finally, when you had left, I would not cry, I fall asleep on the living room carpet, surrounded by dozens of candles lit, drama queen, imagining myself in a movie.
I do not know what to do you and your life.
you give me the impression that I have to be nicer to you, and with others too, but I especially want to hurt you, to get dirty, to see if I get to make you push your limits. you force me to deal with this morbid desire I want to kink that is beautiful, your words to ruin, destroy what you project.
secretly, I want you to be patient enough to stay until I finish speaking evil and spitting. and there, maybe I would look to pick up a paper lying on the sidewalk in order to recycle it. I get to compliment your mother on her recipe for stuffed peppers instead of enthroned at the table like an old statue. Suzanne would offer to take her home rather than let her take a taxi.
and then I feel your big blue eyes set on me too. you'd be proud, proud as a dad who watches her child graduating from kindergarten. you'd be very glad to see that I reached a milestone, but I know, I already know I should have done it all by myself, but I still have so much to accomplish.
I do not want more than your tolerance or your voice that never shouts or be your newest project . you would be remiss of me / you / we reduce to this, but I would say anyway, so that you get angry and you strum a few joints of your hands too slick. I eat meat in front of you and I would drink three, four, seven glasses too, until no more can you see me in such a state.
finally, when you had left, I would not cry, I fall asleep on the living room carpet, surrounded by dozens of candles lit, drama queen, imagining myself in a movie.
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