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its important to know that there are feet with this feeling as such as such that they still walk and coupled with that they curl and cunt the daily world in a way that makes today seem like a whatsit comedy like the ways of boys left stupid because they’re still smiling and lacking in the hot business that will eventually singe their balls like ballast or balanced by foot and tail this time another which lands in my lap like a slap and woe is he who this or that commences along the line lifting one side of the body against the next a worker of four fingers at most divvied up within splitting threads of salvia as an abstract gesture polished around like the breast of a boy who still tits his moans in eager wanting refreshed eyes seen clearly enough to see it all as the horror that stands before him or two bodies dead at the step of it coupled with a purring frizzy somesuch still pulling out strands of cum enough to stretch out to nevada or any other place where this is remembered as a legal scooch which is nowhere stinging strings in the old house thrusting cocks bent forward and reminding you that youre only what you put in your mouth and these simple errors of appointment only are left hollow or otherwise left alone but no the flophouse dick face that still slumbers deep opening layers of lust like hardening anger with a hard thrust held forth scintillating around swollen crystals that blow out of the gun-butt and hole hole holy hell be the one who finds his end in the way that he finds it an ever stimulated squashing glans flopping shit into soil by midday letting your teeth teem like coughing legs spread and worship was awesome but something still feels a frenzy in the bottom of your boot squashed like a gulping hardon in shorts too short to leave on trifled by entangled bodies left split like a walnut at christmas rubbing down along the frown of many who are left shoulders rectangular and gathered all along the nape of a neck that seeks more stretch than is possible in such a scarred state or even stupid in the pants like a teen torn soft and stop this stupid measure of something i cant quite enable a regret or function to bleed out properly properly struck and seamed in a way that boys biting for a stretched something or other might end up finally appreciating before their final gash between the thighs like sighs left unadulterated and sad again a black finger forced onto a torso toed and torn bit by bit still coated in cum like a way pressed over and horribly bent this spitting vomit and other such sap a foot chewing finality that the local kids call a lisa an abdomen hardening so hard that it speaks two fingers like muzzles out of ivy or a closed boy cunt this clambering branch mouth of a man laughing touching the spur of the spit right down to the butting well worth trunk the flattening of the back of a knee like a spur against truth alone palm left trembling along the length of a palm against the world over side thighs cooling like all limbs succumbed hands around the open limbs and a foot still trampling fingers pinching like horns honking quickering like behind a quiverying blood clot or ham coup that can’t be stand upright on even one leg sliding head down against the whole function that withstands standing a wretch a terror that tingles all along the balls of those that counter such a claustrophobia like a chaperone of fucked up finality slipped like a pair of mica horns vibrating and wanting fingers screaming at the tepid touch each time on boy scramble back lips a collapse and death with teeming terms of tossed bitch asses and eyes full of sorrow chest back onto knees cresting knees like waves of fading in and out and out onto planes of bodies blanketed enough to be deemed solid and yet hooking along a crook that wakes one up like a cry or a demand or a thing that is left to suffer
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Too much time alone might be what makes this as exact as it is.
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Reasons left alone, such instances here described have to multiple stances that require even further exploration by an adequate professional.
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A shred something or other lends this blast as if it were an actual something to regard as fact, given its own admission to fiction whatsoever.
