Come Hither.

Tuck Everlasting.




Who do you want to be? Or would you rather die here tonight? This is an empty mural of cubicles and apparel. Draw business with syringes, a stethoscope can hear the faint ticks of a nine to five. Have you ever seen a life much sadder? But still, you climb.

You're like a perfect day to me, but I watch you walk away and I didn't catch your name. Heavy hearted until you call my name; it sounded like church bells or the whistle of a train on a summer evening. I'll run to meet you, barefoot, barely breathing.

In a city of love, my, we really had fun.






Shallow as shallow does, the theory of big behinds is concluded with the constant rampage of hypermart trolleys on one's behind, needless to say, permanantly scarring one's big beautiful behind.


KNN, said I.





His documented bruises.