The wetness in the evening light is a paradox,coming with the only streak of lightthat drifts into our common room...the wetness reminds me of darknes..
perhaps i could start like nerudawe could retire to our private horizons in a venetian gondolaand there we would kiss till i die..no, then , i know ev..
yesterday,i murdered three menin my dreamperhaps,conscious that i wouldnt be liablei pushed the switchbladean inch furtherthis morning,in the bathroom..
My bamboo houseLoves fireThough i thoughtThere never would be a real opportunityto show their mutual faithfulness...In the land of wind,We erected a s..
i tell storiesfor a livingstoriesi eat and sleep with..stories i fight with..stories i flirt with..the clienteledecideswhere i startand how i twist..t..