dios mio mio dios. i want this kid to cook for me. i would mayyyyyyyyybe purchase tp and clean dishes and he could cook all the ribs in the fucking world and i would watch b/c this body can't house all of that but his might be able to, and i feel like feeding those you love is probably all that mother lions want to do, lover lions, girlfriend lions, whatever, friend lions...lions. i said it so many times, and i see it so clearly - this planet, held together by two, you roll it, ARE it, around together, one over the other over the other over the other ove the other...i would throw in some greens with that meal, 'cause that's how LP do! mirror mirror in the alley, who's the fairest of them all? not me. dearest nymph from marseille - i'm sorry. some many mays ago i wrote: "on the real (short and sweet) out of respect for females worldwide, all of them wonderful beautiful feeling unique, and deserving of love / trust / honesty (the ones i know at least), i shall step off...and those be the breaks sometimes." seedy was never me - WE the seed. what i thought was never what i could write or say to face; face it. we set you up to succeed, make no mistake about that.
on the moscato tip, though, we good. though my dreams are sometimes ridiculously banal the themes now vary, and every now and again i get a second chance, this time with bullet-point instructions from the more informed females in my life. i find though that even with this 20/20 i still cannot paint the babe as an innocent. we are flawed but our art is not - what a design! absence, absentia, dementia, abstinence: blue eyes abound around here (no disrespect) and i like them (por que BRILLAN) almost as much as i am enjoying all of this bourgeoise photography floating around the interwebs; fucking brilliant. keep it coming, you guys, nice and hard like.