this is why i'm seating him and dancing, and just all around lavish. it's not that i love the taste of halvah; it was just made of pistachios and deliciously creamy and honeyed against mary's dairy's belgian chocolate. that was ice cream heaven, my only precious until stand came along.
with its little prat. spencer, you're probably a lot nicer courtesy of that extra t. brian floyd thinks all women want to fuck him and it was terrifying to start hyperventilating around him because the flashbacks would hammer me whenever i felt a little defensive of who i was.
makeup roulette. i hardly wear it anymore...and the boy delights in everything.
he delights in my age. and i laugh because 29 was not my dream guy age at 29. so i know how he feels: WTF AN OLD!? I LIKE AN OLD!? but the boy is devious and i'm just honeying him along because i have goals that have nothing to do with him being in love with me forever.
even through all the panic and renewed goals my outlook on love remains luciferous (the poem has me playing with lucien on 1st&1st and upon its quail egg and crashing fries through steak tartare so it's brain floss for days). it's odd how much i really need someone else and have my suitcases packed, but keep kissing him goodbye along the steam engine:
covered with soot.
(but i think we might still work out the tricycle issue...because he sure as hell ain't leavin'. i think it might be the smartest compromise i could ever make with a penis. SPEAKING OF PENISES, which pair of tweezers does john mayer masturbate with? hopefully he goes needlenose. when a TWINK comports himself with 60,000 times more dignity and NEWTON defined all of earth and got an ACTUAL injury...please, just DROWN yourself in that cup, and take kanye with you. two boys, one peanut butter icicle and--just...
...scat, will you? gerrowwer here.)