"insensitivity" poems
dearer to me than my heart
dearer to me than my soul
and i bleed
I lose
with my heart and soul
Inflicting pain, sorrows
griefs -- endless remorse
Once my homeland was pure
it was freed from blood
****** insensitivity
once my homeland was free of evil inhabitants
sorrows multiplied a thousand fold
gathered in pain-inflicted tears
with lump in throats
distant from your presence
i cry-- for your loss
On the rooftops of tragedies, my heart sink more
like an orphan, an abandoned child
my homeland bleeds
i scream within
i feel the abandonment
dearer to me than my own voice
dearer to me than my own eyes
and i am silent
I am blind
losing my sight, losing my voice
as my voice can't reflect the pain i feel
my eyes can't cry any more
reflecting ocean of deprived
once my homeland was free of pain
people were safe
we running like rivers
do not say it
our country was a flesh in body
now it is a dead body amongst many flesh
forgotten the promises
forgotten the true colors
in the name of revenge, we humiliate humanity
my intention is not to write poems
in my soul, i embrace nights long
this land absorbed wounds, tears
blood, fights, and many martyrs
who are forgotten
my country is our hope
we are growing in broken shadows
this siege is waiting us to drown us
in the middle of lonesome warrior
nobody can feel in absence of love
who are incapable to feel
to take, to absorb
love require us to cry, to embrace
today our homeland is deprived
abandoned, bleeding
she is under siege
as we forgotten to love
we deprived her of her loyalty
we deprived her of her love
we deprived her of her true lovers
My homeland I feel your pain
in my heart I carry all with me
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC
there is a darkness
that the silver song
of soft illusion lights
in symbolic equivalents
of images real
it is a light
brutally interrogative
magnifying with dazzling rays
the breakage
at the jagged edges of the world
and lays hostage to impersonation
that resembles fragments
of smashed oval shaped mirrors
reflecting pieces of broken
brown terracotta soldiers
and causes the eyes to hurt
with a watched inner holocaust
of disturbing coloured detonations,
implosively autonomous
given to a deceived departure
a departure from reality
given by the advocacy
of ideological rationalism
that sees three kings
with blood on their crowns
in amplified convulsions
call mustre for
disturbance, disorder, destruction
and death
as blood stains the Balkan streets
and all emotional impulse
is volatilized
and a sinister, stuporous, stagnancy
stalks the land
where sustaining minds
are subject to a brutal insensitivity
that dazzles on the edge of a spiral vertigo
it is a light
brutally interrogative
magnifying with dazzling rays
a vocabulary of incoherence
like the rancid stains of *****
that inhabit the jagged edges of the world
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
Funeral processions
Spontaneous
Money, Money, Money
Bridges to Neverland should exist.
Wedding party
Music
Fall leaves
Breaks winter.
Intuition floods the sauna of life gated in
By the strong arms of the whispering trees.
******** profit, taking advantage of the sheltered
Wallets of men plagued by the insensitivity and greed
of the less mature.
**** you, sir, for charging innocent minds and hungry souls
To enjoy the entrancement of the world
Far older than you
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 9:59 AM UTC
Hypocracy Mandatory.
Gullibility Mandatory.
Insensitivity Mandatory.
Obesity Mandatory.
Immaturity Mandatory.
Childishness Mandatory.
Monarchy Mandatory.
Capitalism Mandatory.
Conservatism Mandatory.
Terrorism Mandatory.
Corruption Mandatory.
Incompetence Mandatory.
Socialism Mandatory.
Dictatorship Mandatory.
Militarism Mandatory.
Liberalism Mandatory.
Bhuddism Mandatory.
Islam Mandatory.
Christianity Mandatory.
Judaism Mandatory.
Hinduism Mandatory.
Vedism Mandatory.
Hatred Mandatory.
Anarchy Mandatory.
Jealousy Mandatory.
Nationalism Mandatory.
Fascism Mandatory.
Racism Mandatory.
Lies Mandatory.
Hypocracy Mandatory.
Obesity Mandatory.
Heart Disease Mandatory.
Cancer Mandatory.
Idiocy Mandatory.
Eco-Nazism Mandatory.
All of us Humans.
Of all Five Colours.
Wherever we be.
Whatever we do.
However we "see" ourselves.
What do we call ourselves now?.
How about shallow nitpickers?.
Or celebrity obsessed morons?.
Or religious hypocrits?.
Or Democrats?.
Or Socialists?.
Or Revolutionaries.
Or just plain "nice folks"?.
Or supporters of oligarchy policies?.
Or immature backpackers?.
Or government assassins of integrity?.
Or juicy ***********
Or swift tongued ******** ticklers?.
no matter how many lie dead or injured as a result
of our obfuscation and avoidance.
As if poets have the explanation to life
except in strings of meaningless associated
but fine sounding words.
When "poets" are the voluntary slaves of Mind
and Conditioned Identity..
As if poets had the ***** to go beyond all these things.
As if .
Scrape the Moons suface and you will find a delicate Castello Blue Cream Cheese.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
You see right through me,
as though through a glass.
Unnoticed, ignored, invisible.
But I have flesh and blood,
I feel love, joy, pain like you.
Unnoticed, ignored, invisible.
You forget my name, repeatedly
mention someone else's
Unnoticed, ignored, invisible,
you tall a lot of smack
but when it boils down
you've hurt someone
you can never have back
Insensitivity can be forgiven
but only if its recognized,
apologized for.
Unnoticed, ignored, invisible.
My heart is as big as the western skies
but even a pin hole can drain such as I
I deserver better treatment than this
I demand better treatment than this
In the end, I will get better treatment
that this.
Unfortunately for you, respect goes both ways.
and I do not give what i don't receive.
I wont let you treat me as Invisible.
JCM 2011 ©
6/19/2011
Jun 19, 2011
Jun 19, 2011 at 8:48 AM UTC
Sitting by the fire, you stretch,
And breathe. The air is stiff,
Perfumed with insensitivity.
But to whom does this mysterious perfume belong?
For I am quite certain that it is not mine.
Your eyes stare,
My cheeks flush.
Our mouths show shameful smiles.
Slowly we lay on the ground,
Where the cooler air resides.
There is no overbearing perfume here,
Only the fire, the night,
And time.
Apr 18, 2011
Apr 18, 2011 at 9:55 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
There are more and more misfortunes in the world
Known to you dear people in your diverse conditions,
But my life and experience has taught me unique lessons
Of kindred to befit me Elizabeth, a daughter of Zinjathropus
Hailing in the savannah desert, Turkana County of Kenya,
I have graduated in to a single lady without test of marriage,
As desert men look at me in their irritating impotence,
**** clothes wrapped around their slender waists passing on me
Like a dog passing on American dollars; cursed be desert men,
I thought my beauty of dark African complexions will give them a ****** tease
But to my chagrin; desert men have a fear of beautiful ladies
My conscience tells me that my beauty is an eye sore to them,
I thought my bulging hips will entice them as is a promise of fertility
Leave alone not to mention my concupiscent ****** warmth, uhmmm!
Desert men have dared not to see and appreciate my **** bossom,
They often pass on me driving their donkeys and emaciated carmels,
I thought my ***** sharp pointed ******* assign of virginity
Will call them to me into a treat of love, affiliative love,
But sadly enough; these dudes are erotically blind,
They they nonchalantly pass on my **** *****
Wielding a begging bowl in their ***** long hands
Running like drunkard chimpanzees going to Oxfam stores to beg for food,
Cursed be Oxfam an imperialist agent, it has crashed flat
The testicles of our desert brothers into ****** insensitivity,
Oxfam has made African desert men to beg like Hebrew lepers
Other than standing up on their feet to feed their women,
Normally as men would do from the sweat of their brow,
I thought my education will attract them to me,
To love me with those romantic University kisses,
But desert men have crude cultures and slavish religion
They rebuke girl child education as if it is a devil,
Oh my dear God of the forsaken desert ladies
Of the forsaken African daughters,
Take me out of this ****** desert
Take me out of the city desert of Lodwar,
Take me to the equator line and give me a husband,
My eggs are pretty ready to conceive and sire children
Sons and daughters for your own glory O almighty God,
Take me out of this ****** desert,
Where no man treats a modern woman,
Take me out of here and give me a fresh man of my dream.
Because I have known from today;
It is accurse to be a woman in Africa
It is a curse to be a beautiful lady in African deserts
It is a curse to be a woman graduate in the African desert
It is a curse to have ***** ******* in the African desert,
O! Help me God.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
I’m nervous, simply waiting for you to snap me
like a twig.
I’ve bundled my feelings, my loves and hates,
all those outspoken words
and all those silenced words,
into a little gift-wrapped, topped-with-a-bow
gift
for you.
You will accept it.
It is what comes after, when it reaches your nimble hands,
that frightens me.
You weave your skill so well,
like knitted discord inside, I can feel
when I reach in to see if I’m all still there.
Under many dark moons,
you leave your shadow to keep me company.
It walks beside me, keeping my head whirring on into the
small hours of the darkened dawn when
I see it
at the foot of my bed
watching me sleep.
You told it to crawl into all the tight spaces
inside me,
with me.
It reminds me of you, endlessly, always,
breathing your name as I surrender to closing my eyes,
vulnerable lying before your peering shadow,
it could stop me breathing in a heartbeat.
Only you, sweet devil, can keep me falling so hard
so fast,
shedding myself trailing from your bed to mine.
I linger in the smell of you wrapped around my clothes,
taken off in a hurry as your words,
sizzling spitfire,
hand-made cuts and invisible haemorrhage
shatter me to pieces
easy enough for you to pick and keep in
your bed until you are finally finished
with me.
All I feel is the burden of myself,
when I really have no burden to hold.
I’m a phone running out of battery when you need it most.
Filled with a frenzied panic, a slap of frustration passes your face
to use against me all that bottled irritation.
If I don’t touch you back you will
wield it against me,
blame for insensitivity, a slowly seeping coldness
I can fight off under your roaming form
in a shady light of fear.
Your emotional abuse is a character.
It has a body, limbs and hollow face and it can bruise me
with a single touch.
I never leave my body open with you.
And to what end do I let you paint me with your manipulations,
your scheming tactics
your irrevocable evidence I’m worth nothing more for you;
like a girl’s doll known to be too pretty,
putting sticky residue inside their goals at night.
So use me with your infamous fingers.
I dare you, do it.
Again.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 2:22 AM UTC
Saw someone drop their phone
and laughed at them.
I'd like to watch the world drop
their stupid/smartphones
and have to look at each others
stupid goat like faces and gazes.
Remind me what heaven looks like,
all I remember is that I'm a scumbag
with moral insensitivity and
you are my nightmares off the page.
Simultaneously a classic,
also a contemporary gore piece.
A landmine seized by epidemic.
Walked away with an insincere
"I'll see you later",
and I responded with a sincere
"Whatever."
Maybe I'm destroying myself in
character slowly but it takes
so ******* long still.
I cheered an old man who crossed the street alone.
I'm getting too close to yelling at a manager,
and losing a job I need to much.
Too close to the edge, but
when I think about it I always am,
and when I think even harder
I hate everything so much.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 7:43 AM UTC
A sleep so sound
As to only wake
The dreams of others
Where armstice
Is given to thought
That wanders beyond
The jeweled dawn
In a defection of insensitivity
A quality of oppression
To look on beauty
And wear its lightness
In generosity, a generosity
Of mutual attraction
That bargains not for purse
But wealth much more sought
To sleep a million dreams
To bask in a different version
Of that which is the same
To have that embrace
Or metaphor entwined within
Yes and awaken with a smile
A smile, a smile, just a smile
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 6:44 PM UTC
oh what sustains this mind
a mind that teeters
on the edge of a spiral vertigo
that sways and rocks
in an unease of palpitations
attempting to escape
from the brutal insensitivity
of the granite faces that occupy the streets
a mind of hallucinated perceptions
with a constant stream of imagery
that finds a difficulty in the self negotiation,
the articulation of its inner geography
where a frightened availability of disturbance
in the vocabulary of its chemical graffiti
leaves speech vacated on the tongue
where eyes are pushed to see
a discord of sympathies for different dimensions
that has one disassociated, cut off from the immediate
living in an inner dialogue
of rebellious and unconventional preoccupations
a self alienation that heightens
the poetic colouring of the imagination
causes a ************ of the mind
that makes me cripplingly aware
of the abyss at the heart of my inner disquiet
makes my toes hover on the jagged edge of the world
yet I jump choosing discovery over societal dictum
to do rather than be
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
We are laughing while passing a bottle back and forth between the two of us
Our breath reeks of nicotine vapor and the remnants of marijuana mixed with whisky
I down half a bottle of Maker’s Mark and you ask how it is I am able to do so with such ease
I tell you it isn’t difficult and it isn’t
I want to add that swallowing bitterness is much more pleasant on one's own terms but I do not say this part aloud
Instead I act like my insensitivity to alcohol is a skill not relevant to a family history of addiction
Built from uncles and fathers using liquid as a method to cauterize open flesh
A mechanism of numbing that has been passed down for years as casually as a recipe
We keep our secrets tacked onto hard labels and the inner caps of beer bottles
We antique our inheritance with the reminder that it has always been this way
This ability to drown myself under the weight of high content is nothing more than expectation
I make wine to water the moment it reaches my tongue
I convert drunken slurs to a language understood
I know sour breath more than I do mild
I didn’t learn drinking from beer pong and taking shots
I didn’t learn how to from games at parties and competition
I didn’t learn it as an activity or an outlet, I learned it as a habit turned routine
I was introduced to liquor with the same hand that walked me to school everyday
With the same lips that kissed me goodnight
This comprehension for the intoxicated soul is as engrained as my predisposition to become one
The only thing impressive about this relationship with alcohol will be how I choose to survive it,
Not all of us have.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
I wholeheartedly wish you good luck in endeavors I'd rather you wouldn't attempt. I'm absolutely oozing with selfless insensitivity.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 7:26 AM UTC
Verbiage
Sagacious humans would concur
Salacious verbiage is trenchant
Verdant language withers a guileless soul
Hubristic linguists deem limpid oratory irksome
A Didactic, petulant, boorish, garrulous, nefarious, obtuse, and insolent
Overtone is not my intent
Puckish, risible, mannered, jocular, antic, and adroit
Reverberations I am manifesting
TRANSLATION
Words
Smart people would agree
Healthy words are sharp
Unripe words die naive spirits
Self-confident word users find simple language annoying
Moral instruction, rude, insensitivity, wordy, wicked, blunt, and contemptuous
Feelings are not my purpose
Impish (silly), laughable, artificial, playful, clownish, and clever
Reactions I'm hoping to create
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 12:15 PM UTC
Am I really self-centered?
Well, certainly am I not selfish
Always, do I help people in need
And you definitely cannot accuse me of greed
For my family, cousins and friends
My love and care has no end!
Am I really self-centred?
Not boasting, but am I kind
And loyal to a fault
Certainly, am I a compassionate adult
And do my best to empathise with people
As far as possible
Including even those who don't deserve it
Because, I know what it is like
To be ignored or laughed at
Hence, are there certain jokes
For which I do my best
To keep a poker face
Since, I do not appreciate insensitivity
After all, known am I, for my sensitivity!!
Am I really self-centred?
Yes, there are certain times
When I do tend to be self-obsessed
However, not too often do they come
In fact, often has my heart bled
Even when it was not required!!
Am I really self-centred?
Well, many a mistake have I made
However, always do I apologise
And give people space
I don't repeat my mistakes either
Because, truly do I care
For the wellbeing of others!!
Am I really self-centred?
Many a time, have I cried
Even for relatively small things
Doesn't that tell you something?
The fact that I care a lot
About other people's opinions
Should ideally show, that I am self-centred, NOT
In my life, have I learned a lot of lessons
And, over a period of time, changed for the better
Hope this at least provides the answer
To the question I have been repeatedly asking
Genuinely sorry am I, for all the time wasting
However, I am sure you would have understood by now
As to why and how
This issue means so much to me!!
May 19, 2024
May 19, 2024 at 12:45 PM UTC
The only legacy of maturity is insensitivity
I will die old will think nothing of it.
The young tend sodium springs
All the while watched by the barren.
Muted observers to life labours conceiving gasp
Unwilling to interpret.
Bald cries to heaven go souls dug with grapples stuck.
Silence takes precedence in the right seat
Unlawful is the wrong
Red is the left
Old knows all is dark.
We run water to rid false colour
Run it until we are dry
Run it until we are black.
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 9:00 AM UTC
Three wise monkeys from far away
in the mystical ancient east
Their simple message misunderstood
so that the west can gorge and feast.
~~
Mizaru "See no evil"
~~
Meaning precisely just that
to not repeatedly look upon ill deed
Not to "turn the blind eye" of indifference
As the many starve whilst others feed
Simply, the more evil that you see
the less empathetic you become.
Constant destruction in the news
normalises genocide till we are numb
~~
Kikazaru "Hear no evil"
~~
Just like Mizaru, Kikazaru
tries to absorb less evil news.
Refusing to listen to the screams
He retains his compassionate views.
Understanding that overconsumption
of evil, violence and negativity
turns the purest warm heart cold
and breeds dark insensitivity.
~~
Iwazaru "Speak no evil"
~~
Differing from the previous two monkeys
speaking no evil is a consequence
of not seeing and hearing wickedness
delivering this providence
For if vile behaviour is consumed
through your sight and, or sound
That evil inside must be expelled
It can't be just buried or drowned
~~
Note how the news desensitises you
and how violence is sold to your kids
Remember The Three Wise Monkeys
and consider what each one forbids.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 10:09 AM UTC
Dear Daughter,
Again you let me down
You didn't meet my expectation
Saw my face in Hall of shame,
Held my head real down
Big disappointment...
Where shall I hide my face?
My Friends topic of the week,
My daughter... your daughter... her daughter
Juicy gossips...
Straight A's, no straight A's
You put me in A total mess
I really felt out of place...
Defense mechanism,
pointing my fingers straight
It was easy to put the blame on you
My ego was big of course,
I denied the fact that...
I set a standard too high...
The benchmark was me
Forced you to compete with perfection
Forgotten the fact that you are you
Never could be me... or anybody else
My achievement, my capabilities were different
and yours were yours alone...
incomparable to me, incomparable to others
Unintentionally, I molded a double
Designed my clone
Created another hall of fame
But I was wrong to play god's role
When he created you,
You were your unique self
a different special individual...
Dear Daughter,
From now on...
I let you be you
Please forgive me for my ignorance,
insensitivity... but trust me
I'd be proud that I am part of you...
and I'd pray to god you'd be successful
your own way.....
With Love,
Mummy...
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
Something snapped within her that day.
She felt a bullet go through her head,
Killing her spirit instantly.
Shock gripped her and she stood frozen
Until salty tears flowed freely.
She wondered, if her tormentors,
Those miserable egoists,
Understood the extent to which,
Their insensitivity had
Robbed her of her natural armour,
Standing outside in pouring rain,
Without raincoat or umbrella,
She was drenched almost to the bone.
Then looking to the heavens, she said
"Lord, I pray that this too shall pass"
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
The pressure behind my eyes swells
Like the tide under a full moon.
Waves crack against my rocky shores
And shatter over me.
Shards wash away
But most stay lodged in my bleeding heart.
And I love you anyway.
I love you despite your inconsistency
and insensitivity.
I love you even though
I can't stand too close
Without feeling worthless.
I love you even though
You're radioactive.
I love you despite the fact that you never
Held me the way I needed you to.
You were never there
The way I was there for you.
When I needed you the most,
You looked into my crying eyes
And walked away.
But I love you anyway.
I needed you a lot
And maybe I was too clingy.
But maybe i wouldn't have held
Onto you so tightly
If I could be sure you would be there
When I reached for you.
You always knew
That I would drop anything
And everything to be there for you.
But you never gave me that security.
Still, I love you
I love you even though
I can't be sure of
Who you are anymore.
You used to show me how you felt
You used to let me know.
But you've become so robotic
I'm not sure you feel a thing anymore.
And I love you.
You used to smile
You used to laugh
Now your eyes are empty
Except for racing calculations.
Always thinking
Never feeling.
You're barely human anymore,
Just a machine
That won't stop spewing
And fixing things that aren't broken.
Yet, I love you.
And you wonder why
Your friends are gone
You wonder why you feel so alone.
You won't reach anyone
Where they need to be felt.
And I love more than anything.
I love you like I might die tomorrow.
I love you even though you don't love me anymore.
I love you even though you broke promises you never made.
I love you even though you don't deserve my love anymore.
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 1:24 PM UTC
Love equals 2 parts sense. 5 parts senses and 3 parts insensity.
Like equals 4 parts sense. 4 parts senses and 2 parts insensitivity.
Tolerate equals 5 parts sense ,2 parts senses and 3 parts intent.
Dislike equals 6 parts cencure ,3 parts severence and 1 part sentence.
Irk eauals 8 parts deslike,1 part loath and 1 part despise.
Loathe equals 9 parts irk and 1 part dislike
When you go past 10, reboot and start again.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
my "insensitivity"
isn't stemmed from negativity,
but more so a desire
to think about it logically.
a life without stress
is when i do my best.
and don't take that as distance,
but my choice
to be sep ara te.
independant.
me, myself, and i
mind, body, and soul.
woven together underneath
the attachment of my surface layer.
hidden from most,
deemed "unreadable."
my "detachment"
a word often describing my
lack of attention-
is not a reflection
of my affection,
or a distraction
from my emotions,
but a reflection
taking place of a reaction.
my "cold heart"
is not the polar
to a warm heart.
it is simply the polar
to a fiery heart,
but it burns
just as fiercely.
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 1:59 PM UTC
The plot thickens; he played the game
so timid, so close to victory,
tasting a hint of defeat.
The game of his life,
trashed and trodden
beneath unexpected cowardice.
Jack Daniels slowly evaporating
within the cool glass; nerves
growing numb to personal sentiments
listening to insensitivity plea for attention.
Clinging to that moment,
promising something different;
feeling the heat of amber ***** eating away
the remains of expectations.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 10:30 PM UTC
there is heard an amplified distinction of sounds
smells of accelerated inner vertigo
a feeling of immanent death
the distillation of blood stains on the sheets
an impulse of volatilized emotion
that generates a different vocabulary
creates a fixation with a considered state
of inner concerns, entertains other dimensions
discovers with sinister undertones
that one is a figment, yes a figment
of someone else’s imagination
that you are a a fascinated but unfortunate escape
from a brutal insensitivity that sustains a mind
that teeters at the jagged edges of the world
for is it you… are is it who, an hallucinated perception
of the I, the we, the them and the me
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
when he looked at a woman he searched for qualities that attracted him because he wanted to desire her yet this tendency created an imbalance or disadvantage he was rendered weak to a woman’s beauty or whatever traits he idealized self-realizing this propensity he looked away from women years of disappointment neglect changed him he became afraid of women gynophobic
when she looks at a man she searches for qualities she is critical of because she wants to be impervious to his power she is suspicious of all men their upper body strength penchant to be in control misperception of women as property misogyny emotional immaturity neediness to be mommyed selfishness insensitivity or over-sensitivity depending she wants to be treated with equal respect a loving nurturing relationship she is suspicious of all people their alternate realities passive aggressive behavior co-dependence craziness
he sees her then looks away she suspiciously notices nothing happens they go back to their separate homes alone always home alone grown calm in resignation yet disbelieving of this destiny saddened by this fate both worry about the future she looks at her face naked body in the mirror her stomach churns feels a sad sickening remembers a time when she was more carefree he puts one foot in front of the other then walks tries to remember who taught him to walk how many times did he fall who taught him to laugh where did his sense of humor go
he sees her thinks she is lovely resists the urge to turn away he smiles says hello she notices nervously smiles her shaky voice articulates louder than a whisper hi
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 9:47 AM UTC