promoted 1 year 2 months ago, posted 1 year 3 months ago
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As she slid up and down his pole she considered poles in general.
No treat we make in these words - but a warmth shallow in the gut and spleen. Attempting a word hunt but finding a diatribe of inner force in discourse about content destructive and demeaning. Ignore this, place the hand on the leg, place the hand on the leg near the slow waking cunt. Today I shall walk the dog, but I do not - but feed it and consider the pizza in the freezer as I crack a beer never really there, never really a beer anymore - just a distraction from the action of the soul.
We are taught not to weep at beauty, not to show a deep emotion - a emotion born of simple, good things. It has to be important we are taught - it has to have a meaning - for it to mean anything at all. I stop by the side of the road and watch a bird land swiftly onto a branch as the sunrise gilds it wings and it calls out to the new day.
I write a destruction of myself - self willing the lesser needs at the cost of the greater - the greater - a grandmother remembers as a tear wells but does not fall - as her children and grandchildren look on as she fades into the light.
Remember these words for they are not written in vain - but a moment - a place, in the dead mans name.