And why do I do this to myself as well? 1 a.
I would like to say these bare images only see life in the reflections of night but I would be lying

They have seen the early morning of a sick day and an afternoon after a dentist visit

Excitement in tingles of situations if were under my nose or belt buckle I would be repulsed by

But how repulsed? Finish the task and as soon as the face is flush the act sets in? Regret?

Or would the toll fare be set in play…

With some thought count me out the distance is fine

Return to faggotry Pt. 2
Really a prize? A medal?

You tell me people really spend their parent’s money on this shit?

There is probably a guy named Frank in accounting at your Dad’s office that could be a poo poo poet scholar if he ever tried

What is more fucked up Confucius? A pant load making $10,000 an inning or a pant load who spend as much a semester for poems?

**(or me sitting here at 10:03 Tuesday night in a sense banging his head against a wall and being the tree that falls and no one hears or cares)**