But if you suicide who will I masturbate to?
Nah I cant see you as that type. I mean it's only art. Pretty good one as usual
Those little indentations that make up the head and heart whole, the fine drawn scars around my wrists at the moment of my waking. My indifferent poise between the plumage of sleepers and restless dead. The marks on the heart woken with after a long winded romance through the bowels of my mind, or the heart of another. These are what haunt me; the dead things that I am made of, slumber wounds.
But if you suicide who will I masturbate to?
Nah I cant see you as that type. I mean it's only art. Pretty good one as usual
Don't.
You are free to copy, distribute and transmit this work under the following conditions: