My man is so good to me... And treats me so fine, He keeps me coming back for more... Each time I think I’ve had my fill, I’m back again, It’s a treat for all my senses really, every last one stands at his attention. I mean, how can I resist? Look at him, moving like the king that he is, with that **** grin. He brushes aside my hair...I feel his cool breath on my neck, a soft tickle on the skin... Then he whispers, “More eggs baby?” Don’t you just love a man who can cook?
For those sweet intimate moments shared between two.
The whole is equal to the some of its parts and my parts are **** the rest of me could only follow suit as the law--the theory--the timeline--the cosmically known universe insert bigger word here consumes, consumes-- bites down on me.
If part one fights to be what I hope is to be good and part two fights to become the character foil do the parts equal nothing? If a tree falls in the woods and-- no one is around to hear your stupid lies? If one plus one equals two then that's me, and you, and Who is that?
If the whole can't be whole without its parts can space be space if we haven't seen the whole of space bars at night close in the morning and the more I ponder and ponder and think about it You are no more better than me Than I am of you