"gland" poems
*Contemplate a teardrop,
and this is what I see.
A drop of moisture
from an irritation?
Some agree.
What is a teardrop made of,
just some water from a gland?
But brush it off and contemplate
the moisture on your hand.
It's also made of sorrow
or from pain that you may feel
A treasure of emotion
on your cheek
that might congeal
"Tears of happiness" are made
of joy or great suprise
That fall like rain in summer
from a pair of smiling eyes.
They course down cheeks in rivers
or collect on lashes there.
They form in silent puddles
when emotions are laid bare.
Tears are gems as precious
as a diamond that is mined
So do not take them lightly
if their origins you can't find.
They're made of things like music
that can make the heart take wing
Or how the soul can elevate
to hear an angel sing.*
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 12:24 PM UTC
-lights out-
fall, hands a-clasped, into instantaneous
ecstasy like a shot of ****** or morphine,
the gland inside of my brain discharging
the good glad fluid (Holy Fluid) as
i hap-down and hold all my body parts
down to a deadstop trance-Healing
all my sicknesses-erasing all-not
even the shred of a 'I-hope-you' or a
Loony Balloon left in it, but the mind
blank, serene, thoughtless. When a thought
comes a-springing from afar with its held-
forth figure of image, you spoof it out,
you spuff it off, you fake it, and
it fades, and thought never comes-and
with joy you realize for the first time
'thinking's just like not thinking-
So I don't have to think
any
more'
8.2k
electromagnetically
feelings occur,
responsive to going ons,
pineal gland awakens the senses.
and almost every woman has heard it
"you're so emotional."
so electromagnetically aware
and we don't remember this,
now,
the womb,
the beat maker,
she tunes the
energy of the babe.
mothers wave of
waves fractionally
lay a deep foundation
of the babes waves.
I tell my children
if they can't find me
to look in their hearts
I reside there…
my rhythm, my beat, my heat
lives on.
my womb
charged that spark
that started the parting
of molecules
fractionally
creating its imagine
time and time again, (as we do)
until, begin again,
a new life.
rest your head upon my chest
child
for a recharge.
in our civilized world
we send mothers to work
in a make believe cycle of need.
babes heart searches
for mamas tone
she only cries short
cautious of overspent energy
first dose of sickness.
and EVERY woman has heard it…
"you're so emotional"
notably more so
during some part of her
moon cycle.
so obviously the moon
is more electromagnetic
than we guess.
and women are more emotional
because we are the heart
of the species.
we co-create the heart
of the species.
we require the emotional
antenna
to summon the essence of the heart.
we didn't come from a rib…
our ribs vibrate the
harmony of life through our time!
our hearts beat
the pulse of the
sun
and the dark side of the moon
and infinity.
we are electromagnetically
inclined to emotions.
systematically processing
the energy of existence.
perhaps the first title I will accept
a claim upon my being,
the feminine sensitive.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
It's not that I'm bored with this meeting,
It's just that the food was so good.
My body is busy digesting,
And my brain is fresh out of blood.
The dessert was so rich and so tasty
That the topic seems tasteless and bland;
Perhaps our start was too hasty,
Or maybe I have a bad gland....
So if you should hear me start snoring,
Or if my head's sinking low,
Please don't think that I think it's boring;
My blood sugar's probably low.
Jan 11, 2012
Jan 11, 2012 at 12:07 PM UTC
One day
Woke up feeling randy
No one else was handy
What's to do?
Get dressed
Satisfy the horn
With badly acted ****
On pay per view
Hopes sink
Cable's on the blink
But twitter lends a helping hand
Bang, bang, come and have a gang bang
Gain entrance on demand
Have a gang bang
Come and have a gang bang
It's a gang bang
Come and have a gang bang
Went out
Followed the directions
Battling erections
All the while
Red cheeks
Granny at the bus stop
Let her vision drop
Then cracked a smile
Half four
Knocking at the door
It opens and a voice proclaims
"Bang, bang, come and have a gang bang
We've far too many dames"
The host was a sight to see
Not far over seventy
And wrapped in a silk dressing gown
I thought I would walk away
But saw that the sky was grey
And it star-
-ted *******
It down
Stepped in
Blinded by a deep gloom
Ushered to a dark room
Curtains shut
Deep breath
Air is old and musty
Carpet feeling crusty
Underfoot
Sprawled there
Women lying bare
And fellas with their organs free
Bang, bang, cover up your **** ****
Regain your decency
Pretty gang bang
Pretty ****** gang bang
****** gang bang
Pretty ****** gang bang
Look round
Writhing on the ground
With squishy little sounds
But something's odd
Fat lass
Itching at her *** crack
Isn't that a ball sack?
Oh my god!
Jaw drops
Granny from the bus stop
Wearing nothing but a grin
Bang, bang, pretty ****** gang bang
What ******* let her in?
She's nothing but skin and bone
With ribs like a xylophone
At least several decades too old
To use the vernacular
It's like bumming Dracula
She's wiry
She's wizened
She's cold
Oh (pretty) no ******
Rasping on my ****
With fingers like a sock
Filled up with ice
No (scary) chance (hairy)
Giving her the slip
My todger's in a grip
Just like a vice
It (saggy) seems (baggy)
Like she's in a dream
While scraping with her ancient hand
Bang, bang, ****** ****** gang bang
My sore and swollen gland
Granny bang bang
Granny granny gang bang
Granny gang bang
Granny ***** gang bang
Knock, knock
Coppers at the door
Go crawling on the floor
And off at speed
What fun
Looking at the punters
Myriad of munters
As they flee'd
Cold, wet
Drowning in regret
With trousers round my knees I stand
Bang bang ****** ****** gang bang
Next time I'll use my hand
Bang bang ****** ****** gang bang
Next time I'll use my haaaaaaaaaaaaaaand!
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 3:00 AM UTC
Oh mighty powerhouse and largest gland
Snug in the abdominal cavity
Though few thy function fully understand
Should praise thee with the utmost gravity
Three pounds thy weight, but worth thy weight in gold
Four precious lobes through portal fissure fed
Tiny lobules in hexagonal mould
Each one formed by cuboidal cells widespread
Arranged in columns round a central aisle
Converting glucose into glycogen
Form plasma proteins and essential bile,
A, D, prothrombin and fibrinogen
De-aminates the protein that we eat
De-saturates the fat, produces heat
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
Here she come
Don't catch eyes
She's a jaguar in disguise
Back on my feet
Money in my pocket
The apparatus
Of social status
He buys drinks for the girls all night
And he goes home alone and over
She's peered down dark Chicago alleys
She's driving and planting her garden
Sunday afternoons-so hot touching in
The parking lot.
Blue skies Cloudless
She. Is in my passenger sest
Her bare feet beneath her in her seat
I swear a kiss I'd long in order
Patient lips
Patient trigger finger
Ive thrown up the poison
The definition of her hair up
And a neck
Sunglasses dark
Blue veined
Blowing kiss bullets
In the rain
She's dancing to the radio
She's playing
Shaking like a fool
A gun to my head /I don't twitch
Looking into the eyes
Lisyening. Waiting
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 12:08 AM UTC
You are the systole to the diastole
Of my four-chambered cavity
You are the pulmonary rhythmic control
That fills air to my capillary.
You are the Pituitary Gland
That drowns my bloodstream in dopamine
You take my brain to a wonderland
Drunk and overdosed in Seratonin.
You are the only Mitochondrion
That powers all cellular activity
My Cytoplasms are in motion
For the sexiest Golgi Body.
You are the ultimate synapse
In my every granule of neuron
That gives an involuntary prolapse
To both my dendrite and axon.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 9:27 AM UTC
From love's first fever to her plague, from the soft second
And to the hollow minute of the womb,
From the unfolding to the scissored caul,
The time for breast and the green apron age
When no mouth stirred about the hanging famine,
All world was one, one windy nothing,
My world was christened in a stream of milk.
And earth and sky were as one airy hill.
The sun and mood shed one white light.
From the first print of the unshodden foot, the lifting
Hand, the breaking of the hair,
From the first scent of the heart, the warning ghost,
And to the first dumb wonder at the flesh,
The sun was red, the moon was grey,
The earth and sky were as two mountains meeting.
The body prospered, teeth in the marrowed gums,
The growing bones, the rumour of the manseed
Within the hallowed gland, blood blessed the heart,
And the four winds, that had long blown as one,
Shone in my ears the light of sound,
Called in my eyes the sound of light.
And yellow was the multiplying sand,
Each golden grain spat life into its fellow,
Green was the singing house.
The plum my mother picked matured slowly,
The boy she dropped from darkness at her side
Into the sided lap of light grew strong,
Was muscled, matted, wise to the crying thigh,
And to the voice that, like a voice of hunger,
Itched in the noise of wind and sun.
And from the first declension of the flesh
I learnt man's tongue, to twist the shapes of thoughts
Into the stony idiom of the brain,
To shade and knit anew the patch of words
Left by the dead who, in their moonless acre,
Need no word's warmth.
The root of tongues ends in a spentout cancer,
That but a name, where maggots have their X.
I learnt the verbs of will, and had my secret;
The code of night tapped on my tongue;
What had been one was many sounding minded.
One wound, one mind, spewed out the matter,
One breast gave **** the fever's issue;
From the divorcing sky I learnt the double,
The two-framed globe that spun into a score;
A million minds gave **** to such a bud
As forks my eye;
Youth did condense; the tears of spring
Dissolved in summer and the hundred seasons;
One sun, one manna, warmed and fed.
4.2k
young love disgusts me
like an infected cow’s mammary gland
your milk is full of antibiotics and ****
you drink it
you like it, want more of it
it wants more of you
but it’s really just making you sick
although nobody really tells you that
you just drink the milk, easily satisfied
until it makes your way through the digestive tract and destroys your newly infected insides
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
Lately when I've been walking,
I find myself staring at the sidewalk.
Thinking "I should just lay down,"
as if the sidewalk is the perfect place
for a defeated nap.
Lately when I've been working
I find myself unable to concentrate.
Words move around on the screen
and my brain can't keep up with my eyes.
Reading only to instantly forget.
Lately when my phone rings
I panic a little.
Fearing whatever is on the other end
is something that isn't conducive
to peace.
Lately I have started to wonder
If I was mistaken to hide my sickness,
to hide my pain.
Because now I can't hide it,
and the perception of me becomes
a crying wolf.
Yet I've always felt this way,
just with lips sewn shut.
Lately when I've been eating
I am repulsed by food.
My throat rejects it;
unable to swallow.
No appetite,
neglecting the consequences;
the hallow weakness.
Lately I've felt like
I am slowly killing myself.
Adrenal gland pumping,
at all hours of the day;
heart grieving;
stomach on strike;
body screaming.
Lately I've been trying to get better
but I can't tell if it's working.
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 10:06 AM UTC
Flamingos aren't naturally pink
But not for the reason most think
They preen and they dye
And they leave it to dry
Before rinsing it off in the sink
The magpies send me into fits
The ducks have me losing my wits
The crows are a blight
And they crow all night
But I do enjoy watching the ****
Vanessa McRafferty-Fryer
Set alight to the **** of her squire
She took a few shots
Of his privatest spots
And then laughed as he ****** out the fire
A penguin called Panama Pete
Had no love of the snow on his feet
So he stayed for a spell
At the polar hotel
With a pool and Jacuzzi en suite
I met a quite curious swan
By a lake I was boating upon
It tickled my ***
And insulted my mum
With a flurry of wings, it was gone
I know of a Gerald McFitz
Who arouses himself when he sits
For his favorite chair
Is the shape of a pair
Of voluptuous wobbly ****
and one for that special someone...
Your pancreas really is grand
Tis a thoroughly marvelous gland
You've a cute little spleen
Though it's seldom seen
And a nose growing out of your hand **
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 12:31 PM UTC
Venus cursed but well rehearsed
Phoenix heart destined to burst
Through cleansing flame I'm what remains
Infinite energy that never drains
Past..Forever regrets we sever
Break the pattern release the teether
Listen maybe you'll understand
Our future is held in our hands
Once upon a selfish mind
Saw the light made me blind
Search for answers that's what you'll find
Cast I am I play a fool
Manipulating every rule
Two versions of me in a duel
Both lay dead in a pool
Procreate self reproduction
Initiate new construction
Find a purpose how to function
Don't be a meal to feed corruption
Oh my lord I feel a change
Phasing as I rearrange
Wisdom flowing like a sage
Cursed I am with a life that's strange
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC
It is locked up solid
it sounds so squalid
horrid even torrid
my flirt gland is stuck shut
no I am not a nut
but
not got a feeling in my gut
if I do I'll run away
from you
probably so fast
there will be a sonic boom
as I leave the room
thinking of
my impending doom
need a woman full of fight
who'll tag me bag me
put me right
needs to be a real tough gal
got to sneak her by my pal
so why do I just give on up?
women in Wales say that I am tup
never trying is my only plan
shrinking violet not a man
will I change?
Will I hell!
such a coward can't you tell
keep on like this till I die
then hide from women in the sky X
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 10:55 AM UTC
Listen to this @ https://soundcloud.com/spiritbarehear/the-living-instrument
PRESSURE - like animal skin stretched over the head of a drum,
my heart,
BEATING, like ancient hands, BEATING
an even more ancient rhythm, BEATING. BEATING.
tribal eyes wide, pupils bare, BEATING
with ayahausca or psilocybin, ibogain or some sort of villlage speed
BEATEN. BEATEN.
with dirt and herbs, a lion's adrenal gland to make the Super Amphetamine,
royal in it's derivatives
and it makes the heart BEAT BEAT BEAT
like a prisoner in the straight jacket of lungs it BEATS and screams blood into bursting vessels
it BEATS like the misunderstood youth of the 20th Century, the frenetic spirit HOT and LOUD
and lost...
POUNDING HEART BEAT NO MORE FOR THE NON-SHIT GIVERS!
leave it to the liver to filter out those toxic connections that evoke those dire emotions
arresting both the heart and the breath
IF I AM TO FEEL CLOSE TO DEATH
let it be because if I were to live any longer in a happiness, it would just be unfair to the rest
that if I were to live any longer in a happiness
the whole of my being would fold into the openness of my chest
IF I AM TO FEEL CLOSE TO DEATH
it will not be caused by a PANIC, a PANIC caused by a PUSH, a PUSH caused by discontentment, discontentment caused by impatience, and impatience caused
by the resounding WUBwubWUBwubWUBwub of a beating heart.
THE LIVING INSTRUMENT.
living instrument, sing to me what is meant
living instrument, can you forget
what once made your strings as heavy as led?
what once made you wrench?
living instrument, twice as large as the machine in the skull, why do we bother with loving?
living instrument, are you solid enough to take this fall?
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
Oh, fuming teardrop!
You’ve boiled over from wrath and anger,
leaving painful blisters as you sear the heart
Why you don’t evaporate is a wonder
but there must be a valid reason…
If only to let the heart know it lives
Oh, fuming teardrop!
Will you ever learn how to forgive?
Oh, defiant teardrop!
Teetering on the edge and glistening,
refusing to fall to make yourself known
It is not fickle mindedness playing,
rather, a power play of emotions
a blatant refusal to show what’s within
Oh, defiant teardrop!
Why even stop yourself before you begin?
Oh, crocodile teardrop!
If you were truly so, slink back shamefully,
recede to your lacrimal gland and stay put
There is no need for your insincerity,
the world is chaotic as it is, too troubled
Fall not, trickle not, trick not who see you
Oh, crocodile teardrop!
How can you be so heartless to fool people so true?
Oh, pensive teardrop!
How gracefully you streak down window sills
Wash away grime and grit, cleanse everything
Flow unhindered, purify hearts you fill
Laughter may be the music of the soul,
but you are pure— the distilled spirit
Oh, pensive teardrop!
Will you course down blackened hearts, pay a visit?
Oh, jubilant teardrop!
Married to laughter, frolic and dance to its tune
Give birth to hope then soar with elation
Brighten faces, sparkle days, light up the moon
Let souls remember that you speak of pain, joy
Let them remember, then allow them to heal
Oh, jubilant teardrop!
Why did I ever doubt that you are spirit revealed?
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 4:24 AM UTC
blueberries gasoline and prostate gland
breast cancer Wonderbread and pacifier
controlled experiment space travel and honey
peanuts inductive reasoning and electricity
tornadoes torture chamber and biscuits
copyright car radio cantaloupe
golden eagle lunch break tomato
Romanian songbook rhubarb and barbed wire
always hungry nevermind meat loaf
goosefoot mango juice Ipad
mosquito bite city street and broccoli
Chinese cabbage female *** drive water sport
pure contralto goat yogurt new year
black death white light and green tea
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
(Scene 1)
Everything was all in slow motion after getting the call
Preparing myself for what it is I will witness next
Suddenly I find myself slowing my walk to a crawl.
I read it over and over through the graphic text
Precised detailed instructions with vivid accounts
Chapter nineteen was written in words that were perplexed.
In the protective cushion of my mind
A hidden secret that is buried deep starts to come alive
Am I awake or am I am asleep?
So confused for I'm beginning to think,
When I dream is it real and when I'm awake is it a dream?
I now feel something starting to trickle and secrete inside me
In the base of my skull I feel the pain.
A pine cone shaped gland is now convulsing and quivering
It causes me to dream at night and it always showed me the truth
It gave upon me the gift of prophesy
and all the answers to life's many mysteries
also in my transformation it turned me into a clever soothsayer.
Why me, why was I plagued?
I know it will happen for the last time in my life
A pleasant and peaceful journey it will take me
As soon as I give up the fight and race through the dark tunnel heading to the light.
An imaginary horror movie now begins to play
Given me visions of what I will see before the end of the day.
I know where I am going; I know what I am going to pick up
Yes I have a clue on just what I am getting into.
A dog whistles sound I hear the constant ringing in my ears
I always see the vapors around my face
Drifting like smoke in my peripheral sight I see them all dance.
I'm I hearing voices in my head or am I going insane?
In an instant blink I am catapulted into a cold room
Thirty nine bags deep in there frozen slumber they laid
No matching numbers with tags could be found
Through another set of double doors I enter
Exposing another four all sprawled out on silver tables.
My eyes now become fixed on the bizarre hollow sight
Of the one's with the harvest of their spongy matter.
Absorbing all the sights and smells
I now found what I came looking for
In a rush to see what’s in my grab bag
I race now to get him out the door
and to stop stepping on with my new shoes,
All the blood that is upon the floor.
To be continued.......
(SirCARSr. 10-24-12)
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 12:17 PM UTC
#
Forgiveness is
as forgiveness does
and I have fallen short
of breaking through
this family thing
this family, fling
This family hold
from days, of old
This family-fed,
smiling, waving
puss-pocket, ******
Head-in-the-sand
adrenal gland
Death-bonded hold
this fungus-laced mold
holding you down
by your choice to choose
Nothing, but them
And out of the ashes
reaches up a hand
that strangles the ************
aptly called
because his ******* of
your mother.. his daughter,
groomed her
to bathe her pure, firstborn daughter
in order to offer her, back to him
as a living, breathing sacrifice--
Pure.. Holy.. Blameless;
without spot, or defect to him,
the destroyer of worlds
but mostly, just yours --
his dearly, dearly Beloved.
#
May 22, 2021
May 22, 2021 at 6:16 PM UTC
The alarm clock rings
and once again
the rooster sings
the morning new.
Slumbering flowers
lift their petals to drink
the drops of dew.
Reliable Sun
vanquishes the darkness
as he lightens the sky.
I see an honored guest
is in the garden,
his tiny nametag reads... butterfly.
But on the other side of town
someone struggles with
addiction.
Habits grab hard,
break will powers in two.
The will becomes won't
and the power is all through.
Satiated,
temporaneously satisfied.
only till the next time the habit has to be gratified.
The victim moves on trying to reassemble his day
Avoid
a crooked roaded relapse,
along the way.
Oh ghost of the host why must repitition repeat the most
and feel so good in its continuation?
Why must familiarity breed the need
for more familiar feelings?
To the point of killing control, sealing a fate,
dealing defeat,
stifle healing.
If your out there guardian soul, spirit helper, what's your roll, your goal?
Guiding with helping hand or let stand the habitualized
habit man.
Isn't there a self preservation station within?
A gland or impulse control button to switch from sin to win?
Even Edgar Allan Poe stubbed his toe on a ten step program trying to get in the door.
Ill-begotten and craven, drunken and unshaven cried the raven...never more.
Guiding spirit it ends here!
No more slave to the crave
or impulse picking from the addiction tree.
The need to repeat and repeat
the pattern becomes a self fulfilling prophesy.
Back to normalacy, complacency,
it's a moderation that one seeks.
To enjoy the ****** of bells, hallalulah wails,
a babies dimpled cheeks.
Can you do that Spirit helper, please.
Let sing the bodies vibration.
No more internal damnation.
No more self flagellation.
Allow to draw power from these words.
Think of this all as an intervention!
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 6:52 PM UTC
The pipes froze as the toilet overflowed
with pangs of guilt and bile bitten clothes.
She tried to dispose of what she ate
from breakfast to lunch to her snacks after eight.
From dieting to shame, infatuation came,
from the overwhelming pain of being herself.
Scared to ask for help, she took matters to her hands.
One to hold her hair, the other to her thyroid gland.
© Matthew Harlovic
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
the world is flown
and i sleep beside you wed
our mossy appetite has become cleaved
a sleeve running between us on this bed
a warm hum the pores pipe open
intimacy issues forth traversing the gap
intelligence sliding slack and froth
like moist candy-floss icking and tearing
our shared dream
our powerful phantom
gussy travellers
ravelling in sheets of smoky sea
grey/green misting of the memory gland
gathering up dead celebrity
tuning structures to our jubilee
re-creation in a vibe theatre
we're partners conducting our behaviour
for a grand flotsam revelry
dizzed up and narcotic
no doubt ; we are unreal
it is the neon hour...
i flicker
feeling the rushing of your warm system
i feel weather speed over our bodies
striping and refreshing the energy
in the oil light blinking i see you
scar beauty over the berths' landscape
you turn the body over and illuminate the eyes
you are if to say "plug back in to our shared motion"
"we could be imperishable"
"i cannot return without my inconsiderate spouse"
you brush my hand which fizzes
and i clothe my eyes
re-enter our developing potion
within our great mouths feed alike
our dual nature is a shared gratification within
Feb 2, 2023
Feb 2, 2023 at 11:47 AM UTC
There that lives, is a land,
so vast, so big, so wonderfully grand.
Cloaked in fantasy,
in a blaze of illusion,
only minds with eyes may see this fusion.
All that may come to be,
starts with a gland of artistry.
There it dwells,
deep inside,
awaiting to inspire the awakening
of the third eye.
Harbored within,
are worlds with no ends,
and all around matter fails to exist.
Wide minded,
visions of potential beauty,
drain from my lungs
and spew into my eternity.
I am nothing more than
a spec of informational energy.
As my essence retreats
from my body,
I am embraced with the
warmth love of infinity.
Pleasant and soft,
I snuggle up,
just a bit,
enjoying thee evermore bliss,
or whats left of it...
As I come down
from my cloud,
I slip, and loose grip.
Dimensions are fading,
communications are disconnecting,
my ears ring and
sound returns to me,
all that's left of this trip is
water filled eye's and
a better understanding of what
LOVE really is...
Why can't the world be like this???
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
Power of the cosmos runs through my veins
Burning me up..I become the pain
Help me!
I'm trapped in the flow
Swirling from within expanding my soul
My body...My mind
I become the sign
Spoken to me in ancient rhyme
Peace is gained only after a battle
Slaughtering humanity as if we were cattle
Pineal gland tingling
Thoughts start streaming obtaining meaning
Living in a vessel that can no longer contain
Evolving me to next level of my brain
Adam...Eve
Living in a tattoo sleeve
Is it Magic if you already believe?
My melodic riddles play like fiddles
Prophetic are my scribbles
Third eye sight keeps me living in the middle
Vibrations stimulate me as I continue to grow
From the infinite energy filling up my soul....
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC