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Her accent, an aphrodisiac brings that torment back of long ago, I know rage in every hormone when I hear her on the telephone and when she speaks it feels as if her body's leaking words that only she knows I've been seeking. A latitude, degree or two and she always knows just what to do. I'm pinned on strings and don't understand whose hands go where and what and why **** or cure and curse the poor she knows exactly who I am. Crack me open, look inside, here is where I figure out the places I can hide. She finds me, attacks me with her aphrodisiacs and I am lost to pheromones and her voice when I'm the telephone.
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Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 7:42 AM UTC
Musing on the Central line
Her accent, an aphrodisiac brings that torment back of long ago, I know rage in every hormone when I hear her on the telephone and when she speaks it feels as if her body's leaking words that only she knows I've been seeking. A latitude, degree or two and she always knows just what to do. I'm pinned on strings and don't understand whose hands go where and what and why **** or cure and curse the poor she knows exactly who I am. Crack me open, look inside, here is where I figure out the places I can hide. She finds me, attacks me with her aphrodisiacs and I am lost to pheromones and her voice when I'm the telephone.
john-edward-smallshaw
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Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 7:42 AM UTC
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