"advances" poems
As technology advances
What are our chances
To live in an apocalyptic place made out of waste
We will scavenge and hunt for our bread and butter
Most of us will try find shelter, whilst others in the gutter
Does it have to be like this?
Tell me if you had one wish
What will you choose when mother nature needs us
As she is the one who's ever going to feed us
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 9:40 PM UTC
All you have to offer me is broken English
but what you get in return is a broken heart!
"Hi cute pic u me friend?" you ping me randomly;
I am sorry dude,my picture didn't respond!
Not just you,but all the guys from your clan
have a typical dressing style that I can note from your photos.
A smug face,bright colored clothes,unkempt hair;
cigarette burnt lips and alcohol shot eyes!
Don't judge me, I am just sharing my observation
but I appreciate your perseverance of sending multiple messages!
"Hey u","Reply and expect* me","Don't put scene^","Fraandship#??","Change new pic"
and all I could think of is "Not happening bro!!"
Wondering why I wrote this ode to you?!
You are a hero man! An unsung hero in your own world!
When science and technology advances,when countries and continents fight and make up
all you can think of is this random girl who is ignoring you!Talk about goal-oriented!!
You have a dumpy old computer with an internet connection and a Facebook account
and you want to have girls who you don't even know;You are more ambitious than Shakespeare's Brutus!
You get irritated looks from all the girls you stalk,
Yet you are unaffected as you never get to know that!!
I envy your spirit, I envy your hard-work!!
Burning the midnight oil to get ignored by girls you don't even know!
Though you stalk this much, in reality you are shy to even talk!
You are a mystery, a dark knight I might say!!
Whatever anyone says, I know you wont give up!!
You are a big challenge for all those privacy setting developers,
you creep and crawl through the web so much and still
you always remain -A random stalker!!
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
**It’s okay to say no. It’s okay to say no to someone you love. It’s okay to say no to a friend. It’s okay to say no to a parent or child. It’s okay to say no to a job or relationship.
*It’s okay to say no to ****** advances. And it’s okay to say no to a person who’s romantically interested in you. Even if it hurts someone’s feelings, even if you disappoint people, even if you’re judged and ostracized — it’s okay to say no to anything and anyone that causes you pain or makes you uncomfortable. You’re allowed to put yourself first. You’re allowed to set limits and boundaries.*
And you deserve to make your happiness and well being a priority. You don’t ever have to settle for something or someone that doesn’t feel right. And you definitely don’t have to compromise yourself for the sake of making other people happy. YOU HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, AND IF THAT MEANS SAYING NO, IT'S MORE THAN OKAY.**
A quote by – Daniell Koepke
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 3:56 AM UTC
The Red Ants At His Picnic
Her pillow eyes gleamed
at his advances,
inching along slowly.
His anteater likeness,
rising,
coming to an anthem,
frolicking on her picnic,
on her mound,
hoarse and hungrily.
Rendevous antics to form.
Wave after wave,
the red ants at his picnic,
dancing,
dancing like there's no tomorrow,
seducing him in further.
He,
so antsy,
anticipating.
In his genre,
happily along,
on her trail,
like a hunter,
taking her welcoming little red colony,
to kingdom
come.
To ******* come,
where her castle and moats succumb,
relenting,
saluting to his anthem.
Where soon white clouds a bursting,
blue skies emerging.
The sublimity and antidote holding on,
holding on to her picnic.
And the rocket's did red glare,
the bombs bursting in air-
together,
to gather.
And there they were ... chaos, abuzz,
lyrical
then calm.
Sustenance drawn on their faces.
A slight breeze runs through the grass
the red ants at bay.
Logan Robertson
4/17/2018
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
do you recall
the crunch beneath our feet
a gesture small
as we ambled down the street
dirt and gravel
I felt pebbles through my shoe
I unravelled
When I looked at you
Where did you come from
Are you real?
Is this how I’m supposed to feel?
A dreamgirl
In a dreary place
I’ve counted every freckle on your face
Sunlight peaked through maple branches
in such a tranquil way
missed chances to make advances
I always hoped you'd stay
a fork in the road ahead
we went different directions
I used many different methods
to try and snag your attention
Where did you come from
Are you real?
Is this how I’m supposed to feel?
A dreamgirl
In a dreary place
I’ve counted every freckle on your face
you never seemed to notice
you just stared ahead
heart bloomed as if a lotus
while I tugged at a loose thread
sometimes I'd begin to speak
but choked upon my words
so I walked next to you without a peep
and together watched the birds
Where did you come from
Are you real?
Is this how I’m supposed to feel?
A dreamgirl
In a dreary place
I’ve counted every freckle on your face
it's odd and super subtle
the synchronicity
insignificant and pointless
yet means the world to me
quiet walks every afternoon
past the garage and dead leaves
we watched the starlings courtship
do you remember me?
Where did you come from
Are you real?
Is this how I’m supposed to feel?
A dreamgirl
In a dreary place
I’ve counted every freckle on your face
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC
navigator’s balcony cocktail hour
rocket orbit ocean liner rising
clenched no teeth no guernica no bam bam bam
correspondent notary republic
address book dial figure 8
charred with a thousand jigsaw pieces
false as a beach chiaroscuro black
on black graveyard womb naked milk glass lit
footprint tourism by candlelight and flare
vaccination fatigue puke fingernail fish
moving a bandaged echo **** him **** her
familiar bell music **** them both **** them all
stretched shirtsleeves spanish toffee slashed tires
(failure as a painter he shaved his wife’s fur coat)
bust your ***** Barcelona red alert
knock-kneed broken squeezebox no hands
standing room only ladies first (please)
unbuttoned interrogation coffee rolls (stop)
marine’s vegetation (stop) early morning tea (stop)
armless menus (stop) pink cathedral fingers (stop)
and (begin again) move
we move
moving inside an eye this eye
that advances step
by step
10.3k
Seek freedom from the anxious mind
For, you have the freedom to choose
Break the shackles of intimidation
Claim your freedom for the sleeping madness
Wake up to a world of freedom, for it’s yours
Freedom for the prejudices and the dogmas
Claim your freedom for the untrusting world
Freedom beckons you from the deepest caverns
Thwart the advances of violence, and seize freedom
Do not pay heed to the abusive words
As your freedom to speak up is jeopardized
The weakest of hearts and minds, resort to violence
And their abode inside is wrecked by loss of freedom
You freedom will come when you walk out
Opening the gates of your heart to freedom
The weak personalities seeks to strangle freedom
To dominate the beautiful souls, as they feel threatened
Assert your freedom; this is becoming a puppet’s world
Always made to act when the strings are pulled
There is a world full of love and freedom waiting for you
You just have to cross the threshold of the murky world
Only you can win your freedom, if you choose to
Seek freedom, and slam the door on the world of captivity
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 5:56 AM UTC
I don’t think you understand,
because I don’t, this wasn’t what I planned.
So I’m wondering how you can understand, when I don’t.
I won’t lose myself loving you, I won’t.
You’ve got me feeling too many different things,
got me contemplating cutting our tethered strings.
Falling in love has me tripping
over my own two feet? Maybe. All I know is I’m slipping
face first into this tangled mess
and now guilt eats at me as I slip from your arms half dressed
in the mornings when all I want is to escape,
wishing I was Wonder Woman with that red cape.
I slip away, but it hurts-
but I’ve seen it; my family, we’re cursed.
Concerning love, we’ve had no luck
I can’t lose you, so I’m labeling us a causal ****
I hear you yelling now that you know my reasons,
promising our love could survive even the coldest season.
But how can he be so sure?
Doubts plague me as I slip toward his front door,
because love didn’t come with a brochure.
I hear you figuring aloud that I don’t love you enough.
You come to the conclusion,
“if this is how you feel, then I’ll set you free”
I got in my car, driving around till the clouds were dark and the clock said three.
Your words had been like knives,
but then I started thinking about my dad’s four wives.
My brain’s all jumbled,
it’s like there was one second left, I was on the one yard line, and I fumbled.
Is the risk worth it?
Could my heart even take the hit?
When I got home, in the dark I saw you standing
my heart was demanding
that I make my way over to you
but my brain said these feelings needed to be subdued.
I heard you say “I love you too much to set you free”
It was then when I looked in your eyes, love was all I could truly see.
My scalp tingled in realization,
as I floated toward you with some type of natural gravitation.
My heart had already taken the risk, without permission
and that’s when I mumbled my belated admission;
“I love you too and I’ll take my chances,”
My brain finally conceded to your romantic advances.
But really, truth was, I’d been under an illusion
because our love had always been a foregone conclusion.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
Good sir, one thing I owe to you: to tell you that I hate thee true.
Your sly advances show for real that I am but your body's meal,
to be deliciously consumed, and have my sanctity be doomed.
Repent, oh Devil, back to Hell! Sink back into your slimy well
where from its spout burst tongues of fire to feed your wretched, black desire.
And if you do not go today then under Earth and dirt you'll lay.
I'll see that you ne'er have a breath until you've met your certain death.
You call yourself a pious soul, yet crying's God's name you take me whole.
You choke me up in your embrace, and tell me I'll be filled with "grace."
Thy love is but a dark snake's skin, which when once shed shows what's within.
Thy hands like teeth about to clench. The stink from out your mouth doth stench
-just like the rotting fumes of graves and poisoning the prey it craves.
Ah, sir, if you are even that. You pull your tricks out of a hat.
But I can see the trickery and magic so it's plain to see:
you do not love me for myself, you'd use me; put me on a shelf
- another token that you've won.
But put quite simply, sir, I'm done.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC
Skin blushed peach on snow white cheeks
Luster and grandeur not seen by the meek
Intrinsically dominant furnace of femininity
Dither and hither be stricken for insincerity
If you try to speak to her expect less then levity
To your advances she implies depravity
Blatantly ignorant vacuous blond *****
Tell me again how I hate you and want ***
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
Up and lead the dance of Fate!
Lift the song that mortals hate!
Tell what rights are ours on earth,
Over all of human birth.
Swift of foot to avenge are we!
He whose hands are clean and pure,
Naught our wrath to dread hath he;
Calm his cloudless days endure.
But the man that seeks to hide
Like him (1), his gore-bedewèd hands,
Witnesses to them that died,
The blood avengers at his side,
The Furies' troop forever stands.
O'er our victim come begin!
Come, the incantation sing,
Frantic all and maddening,
To the heart a brand of fire,
The Furies' hymn,
That which claims the senses dim,
Tuneless to the gentle lyre,
Withering the soul within.
The pride of all of human birth,
All glorious in the eye of day,
Dishonored slowly melts away,
Trod down and trampled to the earth,
Whene'er our dark-stoled troop advances,
Whene'er our feet lead on the dismal dances.
For light our footsteps are,
And perfect is our might,
Awful remembrances of guilt and crime,
Implacable to mortal prayer,
Far from the gods, unhonored, and heaven's light,
We hold our voiceless dwellings dread,
All unapproached by living or by dead.
What mortal feels not awe,
Nor trembles at our name,
Hearing our fate-appointed power sublime,
Fixed by the eternal law.
For old our office, and our fame,
Might never yet of its due honors fail,
Though 'neath the earth our realm in unsunned regions pale.
7.6k
You were my perfect poem
Brief but of many lessons
Our life was the perfect paradox
For love I thought we could rhyme
You hated all I ever loved,I loved all you hated
You said dirt was clean and the sun was cold
You desired tears for years
And resisted all advances of happiness
All you hated I had to forsake
For our love was at stake
But like a toddler you had fun with my feelings
Leaving our blindest love in darkness reeling
Yet my greatest victory was losing you
My severest pain was my sweetest gain
You schooled me through experience
My all-time worst teacher
You were my perfect poem
Eternity would be short to describe the undescribable
For when my hand is strong to hold the pen
Then my heart is weak to pen the words
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
We are evenly matched
Or so I thought
So I let down my guard
Thinking I'm alright.
But I placed my bishop
Diagonal three spaces
Perfect position to
put you in check
Realizing that
I've made a mistake
You move your knight
Two spaces forward,
one to the right
Halting my advances
Leaving only my queen
To defend the pride of her king
I defend from your every move
Until you capture her.
Leaving my king exposed
And defenseless
You marvel at it but
Are quick to place her
with the others you have
Captured and controlled
My king scurries
Space by space
Anxious to avoid
The inevitable capture
I am exhausted
Avoidance of you
is utterly impossible
So I give in
I tip over my king
in total surrender
How quick you are
to ****** it into your hands
You revel in your victory
Clinging to my king
My last piece
My last hope
But how quick you are
to discard it
How quickly you let it
tumble down onto the pile
But I forgot..
To you
This is just a game of chess
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 9:15 AM UTC
To be a gentleman in a Chatroom,
One must always introduce themselves as a number.
As an age.
To inform the fine maidens of the Chatroom that,
'Yes! I am legal.'
So that way they feel obliged to tell you:
'Why, I am too!'
You must also accompany such a number with your gender.
Just so that they won't get confused,
And know that you are a
masculine
manly man
of manliness.
It is of the Gentleman's Etiquette to note your existence afterwards.
A simple 'Here' would suit.
Or spice it up with a
'You?'
Afterwards.
Make sure you always ask how your possible future **** partner is feeling, it's only polite. If they say
'I'm feeling wonderful, how about you?'
or
'My day's been ghastly. How about yours?'
- No matter what the answer, make sure to reply with a steady:
'Nothing much', or if you're feeling impatient, 'nm'
Just to show that no, you don't really care
and want to get straight into business.
- Which shows that you are a man with a clear goal in mind, and as we all know, women adore men with confidence!
The next step is the bargain.
You need to sell yourself to the feline with flair,
Ferocity,
Wit, style, charisma.
'Wanna fuck?'
And if they reject your courteous advances, all you can do is tip your hat and carry on to the next lady in waiting.
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 1:48 AM UTC
Banana, Banana, Banana
How you tease from up high
I love your yellowness
The taste from the heavens
Up high
I've tried to climb,
I've tried to swing,
Each time
I end up on the ground
My face does greet first
Not my feet.
But you evade my advances
How you do tease me
You were a flower
You blossomed
Then you became
The yellow nectar,
That which I want to eat,
You taste so good
When going down
All I wish is for a banana
A single one will do
We were meant to be
Banana & Monkey
like
Squirrels & nuts
Paired since the start of time
I start to give up,
We weren't meant to be
I kick the your base in anger
The vibrations shake
And with in a moment
A monkey
Buried in yellow,
From my
Head
To my
Feet
Monkey and banana together
Like we were always meant to be.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 5:27 AM UTC
Kisses don't last forever,
lipstick scars on my collared shirt;
sweet perfumes sinking into my neck.
Searching for a rush,
there's a rush out there looking for me.
Let me play my tongue on you;
just like I love to play with my words.
Lust of rush; my eye on a crush,
She's a crushing feeling; as when my cheek
bones hurt every time I blush. Plush; so richly
filled and lush. Could I love you as a must;
But a piece of you is far too much.
Do you...
Indulge in all of those senses;
As my sense of appeal is to be the one who
stole your heart. I'm much made of steel;
heavy weighed inside of my pants.
But why be quick in our advances; let's have
a little romance. Pick out our cards at every chance.
I'll play your King, with just few plays with my hands.
A squeeze; you feel the weakness on your knees,
each time I wrap around your neck.
And proceed into those long kisses that steal your
breath. Bite you down like an enemy; be tender
to all of those marks like a friend.
But I'd soon forget, of which of us gets naked
first; before pulling the covers of the bed.
I'm sitting on the edge; grinning at a striptease
doing in my head.
I can't pretend, that my skins aren't hair raising;
lips craving, body shaking, and I'm embracing
the embrace of me driving my destination inside
of your place.
But these are the thoughts on the road:
of what's about to come.
I'm still on the way.
Apr 16, 2022
Apr 16, 2022 at 2:15 PM UTC
On his mighty mountain
Jove reigned with his queen
Never questioned
Never held in check
Such riches never seen!
With mount Olympus as his home
Far above the throng
He could do just as he pleased
No, he was never wrong!
Then a fair nymph maiden
Caught Jove's roving eye
Hera was out shopping
He saw the maid go by...
Making his advances
He found that he was spurned!
No matter how he postured
Her head was never turned!
"Oh Jupiter!" She laughed aloud
"You bloated moon, you knave!
I'd rather love a he-goat
For all the gifts you gave!
You have no tact. No honor.
You plurocratic fool!
You pick your teeth with
Poor men's bones
Using wealth as tool!
Go on then! Arrest me!
Force me... if you dare...
But I know Hera's servants
The one's who do her hair!"
Jupiter was stymied
He knew just what this meant.
Hera'd throw a fit for sure!
So he had to relent.
But he cursed the nymph-maid
With great poverty.
But dissing him was such a joy
She'd do the same for FREE!
(C) SoulSurvivor
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
The day the ships came my ancestors we not of the aware of the forced melting *** that would come into existence
The combination of french and spanish confused the delta slaves
Little did they know that neither language would stick on their burnt excuses of tongues
The days the ships came New Orleans became the beacon of mulatos
And although the conquistadors could **** and beat their slave wives
Their spanish advances were not reciprocated due to lack of of heat to complete the melting
The languages that conquered the delta were combined into something that no outsider would want to encounter
That’s why the Americans came and took it like they did the rest of the country
They mistake the magic for voodoo then rebranded it for themselves
Centuries later the delta is still a melting ***
But it’s one my grandmother’s tongue was forced to forget
Her languages were lost next to her mulatto slave ancestors, left to spoil
So now when people ask
“If you’re hispanic why can’t you speak spanish?”
I can barely find the words in english to explain the years of torture my tongue has endured
When spanish speaking couples walk into my work
My tongue is eager to spill words it wishes it had the ability to create
My blood begins to hate itself over the fact that a third of itself is unrecognizable
My tongue is still waiting for the new boats to arrive and reconcer it
All it knows is to be conquered
No self defense here
When all you know is to be conquered
It becomes a challenge to think for oneself
My tongue can’t decide if english, spanish or french is better
My creole mind is yelling thousands foreign curse words not knowing which one is a true sin
Maybe the sin here is letting the burner stay on too long
The day the ships came
My slave ancestors looked at their spanish lovers and said
“My love, what shall we do once the french arrive?”
With their eyes looking into the horizon the conquistadors replied
“Es no problema para mi, pero tu, tu es la propiedad de estos”
Which according to simple history books means
“Good luck”
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 10:16 PM UTC
He penned
Little
Lovenotes
To the girl
With the
Braided hair
Shiny nose ring
A black rose tattoo
On her ankle
A damaged soul
With half cresent smiles
Crookedly woven smiles
Who always rejected
His advances
Maybe because of
Trust and daddy issues
That haunted
Her dark heart and colorful mind.
©
@roguelover in mirakee
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 10:59 AM UTC
I have been conditioned
To submit
To sacrifice
To shut up and take it.
From the very first advances
That were a little too aggressive
To the subtle denying of my wishes
When I said stop and you said “shhh…”
When I said no and you said “why not?”
When I said I can’t and you said “please”
When I put my hand up and you pushed it away
When you thought it was romantic
To push my limits
When you thought coercion was normal
And submission was expected.
When I stopped questioning
Why your needs were more important than mine.
When your mouth said “I respect you”
But your hands said you didn’t.
When your sudden coldness
Sent chills down my spine
When your charming side disappeared
And your true self mystified me.
When I thought coercion was normal.
When I started to feel like nothing.
When my body was used
But not satisfied
Touched
But not felt.
When your laugh in the dark
Made me feel like a victim
In a horror movie
Up until I finally decided
That you are the beginning and end
Of my objectification.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
Strange nights, starry eyes
a little something to keep me going
no I don't lack in surprise
or modesty
and yet if honesty was a commodity
I'd surely be rich and living it up
or dead in a ditch for never giving it up
and you just don't quit
pry away the drink from my hands
and take a sip
never seen anyone
bite anything
the way that you bite on your lip
I don't know what you're looking for
but you won't find it in me
a compliment, a shred of decency
a night of thrills and secrecy
a shoulder to cry on
or just something to ride on
no, you won't find it in me
Got no money, no worries
don't sell drugs
never felt the need
not a pick me up
or shake you down
nothing changes when I'm around
no I don't want you
and you don't want me
Living life like a grazed knee
the pain is always there it stings
something always has to rub up on me
so if another stained garment
is what you want to be then, darling
pick away at my layers
I can never seem to heal
but I go on like nothing hurts me
and it could be worse
you could be just another verse in my poetry
and the night isn't over yet but
you've just about heard enough I bet
I don't know what you're looking for
but you won't find it in me
a friend for the night, a happy ending
a story to tell your girls, a heart for mending
someone to rely on
or just something to ride on
no, you won't find it in me
Got no money, no worries
don't sell drugs
never felt the need
not a pick me up
or shake you down
nothing changes when I'm around
no I don't want you
and you don't want me
Still relentless in your advances
but I can't take any chances
I'm susceptible to heartbreak
why do you think I'm sat here drinking alone?
unlike you I haven't looked down at a phone
I've no one to call, I've nowhere to be
if you're wanting a simpleton that's not me
I'm not offering late night comfort calls
I don't even own a settee
are you my therapist now?
too many questions are detrimental to trust
and I think you've just about heard enough
I don't know what you're looking for
but you won't find it in me
won't pick you up, won't shake you down
won't show you a good time and stick around
I'm not your wings to fly on
or just something to ride on
no, you won't find it in me
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
*In the forest stood tall admirable pine trees,
As we walked hand in hand with ease,
Upon a blanket of snowy and frozen grounds,
Hearing voices and beautiful sounds.
While the cold winds softly echoed through the night,
Bringing harmonious whispers, as we glared into the moonlight,
And the trees were beautifully dressed in white, on this Christmas Eve,
With clusters of long evergreen needle leaves.
The breeze murmured through the branches,
Gently waving making advances,
Saying "please take me home,"
"I am stuck in the cold" in a low tone.
Near lied an adorable reindeer,
Whispering words we barely could hear,
When we walked closer, it fearfully ran,
As fast as it can.
Joined by a polar bear,
Who sadly said "I am scared,"
And we quickly selected our tree,
Though it was quite difficult to see.
When we walked away and glanced behind,
The adorable creatures, followed appearing quite divine,
With laughter and smiles,
Softly saying "we hope to see you again," and their eyes looked as radiant as a child.*
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
~
late winter’s dusting,
on tarnished ores;
a dreamer’s seeds,
these rails once bore.
rain-washed colors,
on sun-warped steel;
their conjured hopes,
an age once real;
oxidized
by rust and time
blackened timbers,
no longer bind;
what still remains
are worn out ties,
a distant memory,
of centuries gone by,
now mere after-sighs.
structures standing,
but just by chance...
a gust may blow them down;
these buildings where
men’s dreams once danced,
now a ghost, this town.
though no soul is left inside,
still a body here resides.
so long ago
her carried goods,
these rails rode,
to distant homes,
built dreams of wood;
like dandelion wishes,
scattered... gone,
tracks going nowhere,
now a fading ode,
just another dusty song.
for advancing progress
never fails to leave
someone's dying dream behind.
~
*post script.
Oregon’s hills and back country hide these relics of a time when a nation’s spirit was fed by the sounds of industry, steel and steam, the whir of saws, and men calling, “timber”... long before the age of wood and rail were left in a saw-dusty bin of history by the sweeping hand of time. i could easily be persuaded that this change was for the best, yet this can't erase the longing sense, left beneath my breast... advances do not come without leaving something or someone behind.*
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 4:11 PM UTC
Coolers of alcohol
Blueberry shisha
Blazing bonfire
I'm having fun
Who are you to judge me?
Empty beer cans
Ashy coals
Cigarillo butts
I'm a little dizzy
Who are you?
Spilt *****
Tipped hookah
****** advances
I can't move
"Who..are..."
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC