I write because I have no talent. I wind up cooking for reasons all the same. Relegate me to solemn, lonely domestics. Is it worse even still you call me Sir? Or is it ****** up that I care? Well, how dare you, Shitlord. How dare You.
He says Gay in its colloquial A language broke - n By its or - igin creates A world where only words describe The gap between where lives lie Why would I call you friend if it kills me? -- too ******* scared of loneliness. In return, my vocabulary -- guess identity isn't too much to lose.
What I'm selling for the price of presumed loyalty.