Oh, did you call? Are we meeting Dorothy there, and the rest of their brat pack, I swear that would thrill me I'm sure like temptation to sneak a quick feel 'neath the table while ghosts toast our feat of true love against odds, in fact the façade the image derived in cascade reflection in antique mirrors, you look up my dress while I smile at the guests... my fantasy lunch.
Heels Over Head (for Kent) tasting basting love I desire to sample ample rotisserie make me an icon and click me when yearning and lick me like cardamom's tang
Yearbook Photo of Maryann Measles (with sincere apologies and condolences to her family) thirteen might have seemed thirty deemed unworthy of martyrdom at first glance imagine her poor white ambience bartering secrets for cigarettes accusing statutory baby small town hang-around-the-store nothing more?
thirteen never fourteen wiped out before adversity had a chance. they used her used pubescence parted her half-ripe breasts in a bloody gang-bang in scenic Connecticut
unabashedly delivered by the girlfriends of the klavern clinched her execution her screams unabated except underwater dreams of rescue undelivered
wrapped in putrid blankets chained without remorse discarded trundled corpse young girl, eyeliner like grout blood-smeared lip gloss maroon, with madmen plummeting
she wasn't such a "good" girl, but still the woods, the mud, the river, the chains the sky will testify and provide ransom for her soul while the trees stand silently abhorring
Rapture oh my honey of a man your lips so sweet against the sour aftertaste of my contention
kiss me. Take me to other compartments in this catacomb of love. Spank me into succor. Bind me
secure me to the raft of your rescue your arms ransom for enormous waves of ardor
Make me be good? Turn my bitter tongue into a sweet bouquet and take me away
to a virgin environment without prior convictions anoint me, brand me, make me
yours make you mine and I promise we'll find rapture through tenacity
