I’m tripping on
words like a dedicated hippie. Full of
opiated faith and not the slightest bit chaste. Oops, did I do that? Let me
pick it up and stumble for show so everyone will know I’m coherent to
appreciate all the leers I procreate from the slit in my skirt and the crop of
my shirt that doesn’t hide the snide remarks daggered behind my lack of ass, so
full of sass and power that I’m showered in these flowers around my neck. A
noose of independence dripping in decadence with filth and grime that finds its
way under my nails and entails a neon illumination of deterioration in a body
of life that lacks strife. To only thrive on being alive and I love all the
while continuing to beguile you with my wild child ways.
Say….
Got anymore?
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