Creepy princess wore a crown that resembled my decay, she'll maintain the throne, a sensual manner, my queen, your slave.
Wet motel what dimension are you at? Pink ******* against the smudgy glass, a moisture so tastable I've been drained, I'm sensing the gush, litter of ants have sprouted quite slow. Meaningly thankful, good I couldn't feel the love, sure I found you in passion, the senses were restored.
Delusional you expressed yourself as, I felt mesmerized a total conquest, I surrendered as your domain. We both clayed the illusion of togetherness, over magnification of the premature bond. Boredom you gained, I bathed in burden, so overwhelmed.
You desired my feet to press your lips. My converse worn out, the odor of my sweaty socks. Precious biological function, your underground low. A portrait from me with love.
Wet motel did it ever even exist? Planned words and actions are now sensually extinct. Wet white t-shirts, fervid rat holes they're giving us everlasting goosebumps.
A pale palette, Effy Stonem's eyes, attitude of a raccoon and unicorn stamped in stripes. My primary blush was the result of it all. The exaggerated adoration needed a reload. A wished improvement in the construction of a fabled globe, high speed typing and glitter all over this keyboard. I rejoice to these weary dawns. I've made you my own and added some more.
Wet Motel did you open the gates to Hades? The provocation of your pelvis revoked the doubts, straight now to quaint lane. My bell was encoffined, you rang it, rang it so abruptly. The now pagan summons the lonesome. The so very lonely.
The vibrations invaded the shelf. The television drops and cracks as myself. My erectile lump started to pulsate, you roofless creep grab the T.V and lean, or please just leave. The asleep volcano it's about to erupt and finish bewitched.
Wet Motel when did your ghosts start attending the night? Were we deceased as we walked by? Could have I existed somewhere between her thighs? I executed my delusions, you impressed me with your spare time. It shouldn't be genuine, It is not. I fabricated the words you wrote back, you put a stellated rainbow with your vague expectation. The vain sentence was sent, although I ain't felt it my ablaze passion remains. As for you, the forgetting is in the back door, I'll keep my key, I have also stolen yours. Quite a dismal end, of my arousal, of our play pretend.
