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"permeation" poems
A repelling sensation Permeation of sound Or temperature Impossible A moment, a day Eternity Organs slow, pumping Softly, so as not to awaken the real Vulnerable and courageous Becoming a partnership between a drip of fear And the end, arriving as Seas fill ridges and valleys, Crevices of corpses A new bite on each blade of Crumbling spirits Pickling at each span of one's own whisper
0
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
Tuesday's Alienation
Behind these eyes, insanity a slow permeation of a voice screaming truths and half truths I just don’t want to listen so I flood the head just to drown the haunting but it is ******* immortal every night I send an eagle to gnaw on the larynx every morning it’s there to greet disguised as a fictional friend                   fiend. I meant fiend. it’s kudzu it’s ******* kudzu every day is a mid spring day even in winters delicate palms I spend the nights soaking in a bath last night I let the water taste my tongue soon it will feast on my lungs I can go out like Plath except my poems are bad and my novel is only a paragraph I will not      let the inner           demons win.
0
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC
The Bell Jar Shattered
In experience you have learned which tunnel to explore. You enter this tunnel for promises of "gold and precious things!". But this promise did not enter through ear; but thoracic permeation Well prepared having spelunk'ed before; light- your pack light- in hand. Climbing, scrounging to escape the tight entrance with jagged rocks and false paths it's many turns and falls- although you cannot keep your flashlight straight experience triumphs, as in a maze done quickly once done before. One strong pull emerging through; cave's pupil dilates. Ground so smooth and wet though wise to walk we tend to slide                 why? Faster to the gold Faster for exhilaration Faster because faster! and... why not? hitting rough spots mid-slide pain in debt to speed. You let your feet gain some tract as the tunnel    narrows Solomatic mind; without doubt- body complies. A slight gust tickles but this tunnel is not through... Alas! A shining shimmer is seen! The earth is rough to navigate difficult; (but shimmers numb the sense) pain soon saturates and stops your smallest movement, heartbeat, fidget, thought... The light is moving near? As tunnels break space and time and especially direction feel as though you've lifted up and the cave, the light, and all rushes to you. The sound of breathing relocates, oh, yes that's you. gun to back, hostage of Aphrodite running, sprinting, breathless you seek this precious shimmer soon to realize it's coming faster, harder, alarming to you. Looking ahead- Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap the sound the light bequeaths not from ten feet but maybe five, you realize it's you heavy- pack heavy- darkness follows sprinting, pushing through. And the entrance could not be any farther.
0
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
Titillating Tunnel~
In experience you have learned which tunnel to explore. You enter this tunnel for promises of "gold and precious things!". But this promise did not enter through ear; but thoracic permeation Well prepared having spelunk'ed before; light- your pack light- in hand. Climbing, scrounging to escape the tight entrance with jagged rocks and false paths it's many turns and falls- although you cannot keep your flashlight straight experience triumphs, as in a maze done quickly once done before. One strong pull emerging through; cave's pupil dilates. Ground so smooth and wet though wise to walk we tend to slide                 why? Faster to the gold Faster for exhilaration Faster because faster! and... why not? hitting rough spots mid-slide pain in debt to speed. You let your feet gain some tract as the tunnel    narrows Solomatic mind; without doubt- body complies. A slight gust tickles but this tunnel is not through... Alas! A shining shimmer is seen! The earth is rough to navigate difficult; (but shimmers numb the sense) pain soon saturates and stops your smallest movement, heartbeat, fidget, thought... The light is moving near? As tunnels break space and time and especially direction feel as though you've lifted up and the cave, the light, and all rushes to you. The sound of breathing relocates, oh, yes that's you. gun to back, hostage of Aphrodite running, sprinting, breathless you seek this precious shimmer soon to realize it's coming faster, harder, alarming to you. Looking ahead- Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap the sound the light bequeaths not from ten feet but maybe five, you realize it's you heavy- pack heavy- darkness follows sprinting, pushing through. And the entrance could not be any farther.
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71
The knife I take down my throat To vindicate my thoughts Of ruinous infection, Deceives all sensation, All thoughts, and ceases To exist myself, Until the blade conceals, And the only tell Of even its unsheathing Is that of the daylight Pouring in through Windows of which I had forgotten, To strike the flower I left out alone in the open. The scent of the previous day Made aware though permeation From the bottles Left open To fill the air With their intention, But lit candles Will once again Flush the awful realization, As the day sheds colors To the night, And when the music hits, And the temperament Fills veins with built and bottled-up Stresses, the candles will smell great As the chaser takes away the sting From the blade, And the flower, unconcealed, Let without any pressures Or internal guilt, Finally able to be myself, If only for one more night.
0
Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 5:42 PM UTC
flowers are the nightmares we try to hide that eventually bloom for everyone to see
I don’t want to be a tourist, but a traveler in your land I want to be a wanderer lost in the most unlikely trails For your chaste beauty lies in Those long abandoned grounds Of wildly growing weeds and the Secret tunnels you have built for The permeation of your Hymns and cries, I am aware that you have been haunted by The crawling black clouds, and i Can’t always promise to paint rainbows In your skies or straighten your paths, But I know that I will love Every of your rain drops and Sound of thunder, I will dance in your Barren lands and climb every of your hills Because of all the lands I have traveled, Only yours feels closest to home.
0
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 12:26 AM UTC
Wanderer
N Y’s serrated skyline, a pale blue sleeps on teal. But cut out the distant end of it and something of that shade might wake from under there, I feel. The cross which I tend to see is nearer than N Y. It is rusting an old green garden on it and there is much strangely colored gray living in the winding motions above it. The last of the sun, it dying again pours libations of pink upon the summit. The view is far to me yet brings me close to a sky’s permeation. (Been dragging me forward a while now to its edge, this now ever wasting.) This is much like the way the Torre fell through my eyes, pending inward upon some mind, which I tried to catch in my gray gray matter (sitting next to her) like that was the last essential task. I said keep it keep it. Did not keep it. It passed. The blue is changing now— lighter, paler, ghost-like. If you were here you would know the color. (It is the sheet spread over when things are lifted as if born.) Lights, smaller than skin water specs begin to glimmer. A breath is a crumpled thing, used and used but never wasted. When I breathe to breathe I remember to keep breathing. And when the world enters my lungs, I can choose when to exhale time—if I breathe to breathe. More speckling of sky skin. The shades are fading, darker. Suffused under, the clouds congregate in covers. The Brooklyn museum is some pantheon upon my roman hill from here. The street lamps flame orange as if it all was a constant procession towards the unceremonious entrance, through the changing gates, to the unknowing home of being. (The blue has fallen from the sky and dropped onto the roofs.) The impossibly colored clouds smoke up in one heap from the end, still the same distance— far away. (But there still is blue behind me. A blue has kept away from the end. The cross has blackened.) I wish not to leave this Brooklyn roof. But I have chosen to sleep on a bed. One day I will sleep on a roof.
0
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
From a Brooklyn Roof
N Y’s serrated skyline, a pale blue sleeps on teal. But cut out the distant end of it and something of that shade might wake from under there, I feel. The cross which I tend to see is nearer than N Y. It is rusting an old green garden on it and there is much strangely colored gray living in the winding motions above it. The last of the sun, it dying again pours libations of pink upon the summit. The view is far to me yet brings me close to a sky’s permeation. (Been dragging me forward a while now to its edge, this now ever wasting.) This is much like the way the Torre fell through my eyes, pending inward upon some mind, which I tried to catch in my gray gray matter (sitting next to her) like that was the last essential task. I said keep it keep it. Did not keep it. It passed. The blue is changing now— lighter, paler, ghost-like. If you were here you would know the color. (It is the sheet spread over when things are lifted as if born.) Lights, smaller than skin water specs begin to glimmer. A breath is a crumpled thing, used and used but never wasted. When I breathe to breathe I remember to keep breathing. And when the world enters my lungs, I can choose when to exhale time—if I breathe to breathe. More speckling of sky skin. The shades are fading, darker. Suffused under, the clouds congregate in covers. The Brooklyn museum is some pantheon upon my roman hill from here. The street lamps flame orange as if it all was a constant procession towards the unceremonious entrance, through the changing gates, to the unknowing home of being. (The blue has fallen from the sky and dropped onto the roofs.) The impossibly colored clouds smoke up in one heap from the end, still the same distance— far away. (But there still is blue behind me. A blue has kept away from the end. The cross has blackened.) I wish not to leave this Brooklyn roof. But I have chosen to sleep on a bed. One day I will sleep on a roof.
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83
Bittersweet love like roses on your wooden fence thorns that ***** my fingers Two bodies make love like roses sweet, divine, intense A fragrance that never leaves its permeation fills the air the sunken stems dancing in their last droplets Vast openings her voice glistening inside a narrow glass of my deepest entanglements and her wildest dreams Bittersweet love like roses never escaping me
0
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
Bittersweet Love
# There is a thickness to Presence when light has fully come. It does not press—    it holds. It gathers around you like dusk after heat, like blankets not laid over but risen up from within. You don’t need to speak. You don’t need to explain. You don’t need to hide— because you are already hidden in the Light itself. And in that hiding, healing begins. Here, the ache is not judged. Here, the story is not required. Here, breath is enough..   ***Not because it was taught to grow,   but because it remembered   what warmth feels like..*** That slow kindle of hope becomes heat again— flames returning to the heart’s own hearth, too long left cold by darkness and despair.. A hearth that survived on wet matchsticks— built only by its own need to endure. --- It is the hearthfire that feels the light of hope first. The more ash-strewn, the more hollow, the deeper the heat of Light’s permeation. --- So the soul, once clenched around its pain,    softens. Not all at once. Not forever. But enough. Enough to rest. Enough to believe-- that warmth this deep could only come from the Giver of Light    ..who never left. And in that warmth— without pressure, without fear.. everything begins again. #
0
Apr 8, 2025
Apr 8, 2025 at 7:09 PM UTC
The Weight of Warmth
flashes of your smile I'm growing less bitter this familiar mile is now littered with her I don't know how to kiss your lips I need it now at a moment like this I need your beauty beside me I need to erase my shame a windchill a sun beam there saying my name nature is green with envy of thee the falling leaves are of my own body in tow of the spirit that has now known yours found hidden beaches felt the snow storms I'm willing to learn the things you want me to if that's now what it takes to get to you I've since learned new things, though my pride still burns it's with unfamiliar brightness that my heart now yearns
0
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
permeation
Androgynous souls stiffen in their stews With ambiguous thoughts they claim is news They clash their opinions until the last breath But all in all, they're destined for the same death Let's see how many of them will bite Let's see them fight! They're scrounging for that last word to have Dividing themselves from the true issues A million bodies are starving to death Spreading cancer plagues their friends One by one, they will die But they just want to be right Every night Until they're evaporated into a morsel Of their own self-esteem Turning into victims from their own throats As long as they get to **** The Turncoat A massacre behind the sheet Will bring defeat To the service of a crime When it's time to die From accolades bought by them A wealthy force Against the source of progress Tesla's tomb screams out What a waste, it is a disgrace Humankind throwing away As the time draws near Their fleeting final chance To relinquish to their world Entitlement is becoming Humanity's turncoat Race relations have gone back in time Teaching to always expect the worst The skeletons find their way out From the past's catacombs A national war is now imminent Your youthful seed shall be armed And you'll find there is no way out Another kid is shot in the streets "A gentle breeze" It brushes onto the bodybag Of which was once your son Devastation ideation Permeation into the kindred psyche A massive turn to the fourth ***** As buildings crumble under morale But hey, it was a good run Until they worshipped decapitation Becoming a worldwide ************ Another soul is blind in the streets An eye for an eye A shot for a shot Now we all must die
0
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC
Turncoat
Androgynous souls stiffen in their stews With ambiguous thoughts they claim is news They clash their opinions until the last breath But all in all, they're destined for the same death Let's see how many of them will bite Let's see them fight! They're scrounging for that last word to have Dividing themselves from the true issues A million bodies are starving to death Spreading cancer plagues their friends One by one, they will die But they just want to be right Every night Until they're evaporated into a morsel Of their own self-esteem Turning into victims from their own throats As long as they get to **** The Turncoat A massacre behind the sheet Will bring defeat To the service of a crime When it's time to die From accolades bought by them A wealthy force Against the source of progress Tesla's tomb screams out What a waste, it is a disgrace Humankind throwing away As the time draws near Their fleeting final chance To relinquish to their world Entitlement is becoming Humanity's turncoat Race relations have gone back in time Teaching to always expect the worst The skeletons find their way out From the past's catacombs A national war is now imminent Your youthful seed shall be armed And you'll find there is no way out Another kid is shot in the streets "A gentle breeze" It brushes onto the bodybag Of which was once your son Devastation ideation Permeation into the kindred psyche A massive turn to the fourth ***** As buildings crumble under morale But hey, it was a good run Until they worshipped decapitation Becoming a worldwide ************ Another soul is blind in the streets An eye for an eye A shot for a shot Now we all must die
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55
# Your ******* when love-based within their beautiful forming, and then  glorious unfolding are Love and Light's  extracorporeal pulsings; ***focusing   l o v e t on e d sonic shockwaves directly at the  machine's extremely intricate innerworkings..*** Having,  through years of horror-based survival tactics; in desperation.. slowly learned; now ingrained-- softening up the very innerwall-linings of your very spirit in such a way as to unknowingly provide footing for the machine's  deep embedment, and then,  permeation  of all things previously, you.. having now enwrapped itself into your very sinews holding your precious spirit   captive from the the soar These passionate, late night forays outside the wire with you are not exploitative, but instead are love-driven  deeply focused, fully intentioned pingings of Light's Relational sound waves aimed directly at the beautiful you held so tightly, so covetously by the machine as your wonderfully  nectar-filled body responds late at night, aligning to the me, you have come to know.. heightening your beautiful response to the point of screaming,  passionate release-- your own, fully love based..       extracorporeal.. unwelcoming,   of the machine. #
0
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 9:14 AM UTC
pinging, against the machine
I should have been there I should have said to hell with it, I will believe! in you, in me, we two will last eternal THIS is our time I should have smelled your hair, known the layers of dark waves that adorn your face like the halo of a perfect celestial creature yes, the stars themselves bore little bursts to knit   together the incomparable exquisiteness of you: elusive scientist pretty boy Apollo you are magic, you are water in the shape of a man perfect among both men and women, a sensual mystery of sinewy limbs, sculpted lips, eyes peering out like dark brown moons We should have been there in the songs of life upon the sun your long, thin fingers interlocked with mine my heart singing louder, our suns strum the music oh how your eyes see me, how it feels to be seen by you your words: I inspire your concept of the cosmos and I am the only pure entity you have ever known The last time I touched you, Oct 2012 instantly transported held by you and fall skies showing me wonderment, and taking it from me convergence of our air mixed inside collective lungs gentle, so gentle the demeanor of your form permeation in aroma muffins, tea, your clothes your breath... the unmistakable addictive scent of your mouth bones pressed together, and I cried, with the words "I still love you, you still love me and that’s not my imagination" we in agreement, that it would always be true as long as the galaxies keep motion alive My need to kiss you; undeniable, unending, insatiable need you could not kiss me back, for the woman who would eventually give you a son but you let me kiss you You let me kiss you and sent me on my way trying, for the rest of my life to turn everyone I meet, into you
0
Jul 5, 2024
Jul 5, 2024 at 1:55 PM UTC
Time, the Speed of Light
I should have been there I should have said to hell with it, I will believe! in you, in me, we two will last eternal THIS is our time I should have smelled your hair, known the layers of dark waves that adorn your face like the halo of a perfect celestial creature yes, the stars themselves bore little bursts to knit   together the incomparable exquisiteness of you: elusive scientist pretty boy Apollo you are magic, you are water in the shape of a man perfect among both men and women, a sensual mystery of sinewy limbs, sculpted lips, eyes peering out like dark brown moons We should have been there in the songs of life upon the sun your long, thin fingers interlocked with mine my heart singing louder, our suns strum the music oh how your eyes see me, how it feels to be seen by you your words: I inspire your concept of the cosmos and I am the only pure entity you have ever known The last time I touched you, Oct 2012 instantly transported held by you and fall skies showing me wonderment, and taking it from me convergence of our air mixed inside collective lungs gentle, so gentle the demeanor of your form permeation in aroma muffins, tea, your clothes your breath... the unmistakable addictive scent of your mouth bones pressed together, and I cried, with the words "I still love you, you still love me and that’s not my imagination" we in agreement, that it would always be true as long as the galaxies keep motion alive My need to kiss you; undeniable, unending, insatiable need you could not kiss me back, for the woman who would eventually give you a son but you let me kiss you You let me kiss you and sent me on my way trying, for the rest of my life to turn everyone I meet, into you
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52
Organizing the desk on solid wood if only i understood Sorting the papers, a perpetual mess, thoughts my mind wishes to confess. Shredding the confidentials security measures, they could never understand my secret treasures. Boxing the pictures with pain inside nonetheless, the moon moves along with the tide. Time is always changing, looking from within. I know the life I must choose, But you? will undoubtably see it, a life full of sin.
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Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
permeation, migration station
mining my jewels tapping into a new field one undisturbed one layered for this time. tunneling through each. permeation of the rocks and such. traveling deeper into my core. burning my oil. releasing its essence to be free. being my own resource. charging my self. internal viewpoint is path of least resistance. trusted, tested, outlasted. looking within, depending on she. trusted, tested, outlasted. confidence in my stance, here. planting seeds, watching others grow. sprouting using stored energy, moments waiting to be. infinity and, still too... moments of me... as I search for you. that grace of the waves that smell, of energy being made. charged, welcome, at last home is recognized. the resource.
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Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 2:45 AM UTC
compression
If I could be transported right here right now beyond physicality to enter your sphere just beam on in-- like science fiction I would press myself into your burning let the pain be seeped with coolness let it soak right in pour up slowly, in ever-thorough waves of prisms Put out the white hot sear that has taken up residence in your being Smother the smolder to release some peace Extinguish those flames of poison sheer scorch, that gnaws like an invisible predator sets ablaze the skin to gas-lit torch As it is, I am quite powerless but for the purity   of my spirit, my highest love And I let it rise to permeate your very essence from deepest below to realms above
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Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
Permeation Creation
Whatever happened to “with liberty and justice for all”? You say all lives matter, but you have never known when yours hasn’t No, because you were born with an invisible knapsack full of privileges While I was born with imperceptible shackles around my feet And the system, praise the political system, because it has done you right Because your self-worth, and your value in society was assigned to you at birth But you claim you cannot see color, And the truth is, I believe you With your white schools, paid for by your white neighborhoods, Embraced by your white government, sheltered by your white police force How could you? But I can see color. For our jails are darker than the northern Atlantic sky, While our government is lighter than the hoods slung up by the KKK, We must embrace the permeation of a rigid political system Segregation. Cannot. End. Without. Integration.
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Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 8:09 PM UTC
Absence of Color
"Thought The Heartbeat" Thought the heartbeat spiritual lung breath Learned conditioned malleable prism Of the underneath space-time-mind-light-root- Center of the universe one fathom Long dreamed of reality this mountain Crafted i permeation salts the sea Relative here now no where empty form Experiencing movement happy sad pain Joy fear death yes no death birth twining Around the wheel sentient shaped cognate Realms six of one no other place to go But out nirvana way some say some don't Care just slake vibrations vibrating till Satiety with peaked release fall In brain chemistry world incredible we do Not know the soul deep with eddies currents Patterns self aware point bright in view held Firmly scared to cease idea nothing But the great unknown a million Magnitudes of bone in ten directions
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Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 1:37 PM UTC
Thought The Heartbeat
The grand nature of existence, So delicate and supple. Allow truth to enter your eyes, Removing doubt from the confines of retribution. The laws of nature Shall imbue your spirit With strength so far reaching You would think you were dreaming. Admit that the factual container Of lies has served its duty. The normal tendency of escape Into a pattern of mistakes Has been blown out of proportion. Equalize and acquiesce The moments desire and nothing less. Allow an enigmatic psychology To permeate the very fabric of your being, Blanketing the treacherous reminder Of a life without direction. Declare solitude in eternal conviction Of passion fueled living. Craft your reality. Infuse meaning with direction. Carve out a picture so grand That only you could appreciate it. Inside the tiny dark space, Tucked behind archaic connections long forgotten, Witness the muses of an insane creation, Slowly working, slowly showing, Revealing bits of curious movement. In the end I am just a messenger Talent is nothing more Than skill dressed in will. Life is a vivid scheme scheme of joy painted on photons flying through cosmos and Manifesting in the perception of beauty. My only request Is that you enter the lair of truth and seek no counsel. Take it upon your own hands to end destitute solutions That have robbed your will of hunger And have starved your passionate wonder. POWER, Be it. DIRECTION, Feel it. DESIRE, Chase it. Embark on a self-prophetic journey, Centering the life you're meant to live In a consecrated permeation Of the live you deserve.
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Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
Eternal Conviction
The grand nature of existence, So delicate and supple. Allow truth to enter your eyes, Removing doubt from the confines of retribution. The laws of nature Shall imbue your spirit With strength so far reaching You would think you were dreaming. Admit that the factual container Of lies has served its duty. The normal tendency of escape Into a pattern of mistakes Has been blown out of proportion. Equalize and acquiesce The moments desire and nothing less. Allow an enigmatic psychology To permeate the very fabric of your being, Blanketing the treacherous reminder Of a life without direction. Declare solitude in eternal conviction Of passion fueled living. Craft your reality. Infuse meaning with direction. Carve out a picture so grand That only you could appreciate it. Inside the tiny dark space, Tucked behind archaic connections long forgotten, Witness the muses of an insane creation, Slowly working, slowly showing, Revealing bits of curious movement. In the end I am just a messenger Talent is nothing more Than skill dressed in will. Life is a vivid scheme scheme of joy painted on photons flying through cosmos and Manifesting in the perception of beauty. My only request Is that you enter the lair of truth and seek no counsel. Take it upon your own hands to end destitute solutions That have robbed your will of hunger And have starved your passionate wonder. POWER, Be it. DIRECTION, Feel it. DESIRE, Chase it. Embark on a self-prophetic journey, Centering the life you're meant to live In a consecrated permeation Of the live you deserve.
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54
Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap deceive thy neighbor shalt not as into thine grace it shall seep 06/07/2017
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Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 7:10 PM UTC
Permeation
The permeation of my shadow Beckons a new dawn Upon the moonlight Which shrouds my soul. But it’s only in the day, That I can clearly see The dripping carnage, Which was once me.
0
Jan 9, 2021
Jan 9, 2021 at 10:46 PM UTC
Untitled
you invite me to feel the permeation of the air thats electrically stagnant between us
0
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC
Untitled