S - P G

splits your anal tongue atom with its piquant flavour fucking your tongue like an axe cutting tiny cells up to inject the taste. Hair like soft gold over jumper of black layered layers. dancing tonight, where, we can. We can meet - lets go where we feel alive and free, to experience new things. Suck it in, think about that house in deep suburbia which you cheapen as if it has only thirty percent of the value and richness of deep city life. It has a smell of chip fat, and it has wall to wall carpeting and it has childrens toys in every room especially the first one, the important one. It's funny, they all stand around, too shy or uninterested to dance. It's like fucking, a dj who thrusts as they play, and music sent from me to you is like fucking and being fucked - it's a sensory exchange. You deep slut, like a deep crevice for fucking and being fucked in. Open it up, and allow yourself to be fondled by stimuli. I'm not unaware of the hierarchies at play here. I am doing a dalliance with. Better, or worse? Naive fun? You pund and you pund until there is no fund left. You apply for jobs providing advice to people who really need it, although you are just the person shaped buffer for the real advice, which comes later in the deal. Just listen to all the way through, it wont do you any harm, and then you can say you've done something. Go to egypt, got to ireland, go to wales, be friends with girls. Silken hair you don't care, goes quiet. You care a bit, you said in your song, if you really cared you'd be doing the non-fun things too, rather than chasing your tail. Little house on the prairie, chitty chitty BANG BANG was all summer all the time. Dance like you need to dance, like 80s, like new, like body over mind, like reason escapes you, like you are a cell who has been reasonably silenced. Berlin - I could do all these things in my own time. Silken. Like you love people but they have their own agendas that maybe don't fit with yours - which is boring and unacceptable. Like you're stupid, like you aren't good enough, or talented enough. Like the little boys played plastic bottle football in the street near a bridge, yeah, an arch, for an hour, infront of Tops Pizza, all the buildings, including The Strata crammed in the frame behind, like it couldn't be more city. It couldn't possibly be more. Unless they were playing with a fox (fucking fox). Smells like chlorine, or my, Kill me with your kindness, tightness. Same. be tight. Who are you, women who I want to have as my close friends, I imagine they all are. And actually, instead of feeling guilty for liking male company 'more' I just be more present. More avails. More caring. More people, just hanging out with people. Any people. bestow wisdom - or ideas and ---->

stay stay, chorine again.

controlled explicit sexual innuendo but we are the gatekeepers of each others emotional, sexual flow, and maybe if I went for ***L*** OR **y** or even **S%+@@ OR ANY of these sexy women, maybe things would be different.

turning my competitiveness into lust is SO SO attractive.