"planning" poems
If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.
If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home.
If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been.
If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.
If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss.
If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone.
If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.
If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.
If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?
If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
I am the shadow of trayvon martin
Lying on the ground just as he did
I'm black just as he was
I wasn't planning to die that day either
I wasn't threatning nobody either
that day
The gunshots echoed
just as loud
when I was shot down as Mike Brown
yet his name echoes through the streets years later still
mine followed me to the grave
They don't care about me it seems
If I cried "what about me"
Who would ever see?
because my hashtag has even been drowned so deep in the depths of R.I.P's that I can't barely breathe anymore
When we think black brutality
Why do the names of trayvon
Mike
Tamir
Sandra
Rush to our heads just as fast as blood once rushed to theirs?
Does my black life, too, matter?
I can't blame you
That there have been so many deaths due to oppression and police brutality that they all seem to sound the same
No matter how loud we scream Black lives matter
We will never be seen as the living
But the potentially dead
We cry for justice to a system that's no longer built to accept us
A president that tries to forget us
A black voice will always be too loud to a world who never intended on listening
Who am I?
Besides a hashtag and a t-shirt with my face on it?
A black lives matter sign and a melanin fist?
A statistic?
I am black excellence
Regardless of how much sin you may see in my kin
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 10:32 PM UTC
While the globe crawls as
S L O W
as my bill is thin,
I've got places to go,
sunsets to chase
and mighty, invisible wings
to feed, so
bring on the sugar water!
Feathers flickering furiously;
sweet Jesus!
where are my feet?
I am BUZZING through today,
routes as long as my tongue
repeated in an
unbroken line
thousands of times,
*hey, **** OFF, you goon!
That's MY nectar!
Scram!*
Planning my daily rounds,
relying on the donations
of fans who eye my turf war
with childish glee
*and I hope
beyond hope to see
pitcher after sweet pitcher
waiting for me*
Because neglect is starvation,
an end to the thrum
of tiny hearts.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve
some eat cake with their eyes
while others are busy planning their demise
one wants to see bones, another, headstones
one could love themselves if they were just 40 pounds thinner
"maybe i'll love myself if i just skip dinner"
the other has no appetite, a battle with calories she does not fight
a battle, rather, with herself
to **** herself or stay in living hell
too preoccupied to care what is on the pantry shelf
there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
Sabi nga ni sir, wag mo na pisil pisilin
Lalo na kung hindi mo din bibilhin
Kasi mahirap na kung ito'y iyong sisirain
At kung wala ka ding balak na mahalin
English:
Title: Heart for sale
"Just like sir said, don't pinch it anymore
Specially if you're not even planning on buying it
Because it's gonna be hard if you'll end up breaking it
And if you don't even plan on loving it"
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 7:42 AM UTC
Keys. Shoved through the letterbox
before I got up-
in an envelope with a note:
Could I (please) feed the cat…
Gone away? Good for her!
Car on the drive. Took a taxi. I think.
To the airport? Didn’t say.
******* with rain-
still, had best leave my shoes on the step just the same.
Obsessed with cleanliness and hygiene-
that’s why he left.
Who, in their right mind, puts cream-coloured carpet in a…?
Door. Not locked. Nearly fell through it.
Strange. She forgot?
Kitchen. Freezer’s empty, switched off.
No cereal. No tins.
Utility room. Spotlessly clean-
twelve! two-kilogram bags of Go-Cat Complete.
Planning to be gone quite a while. I think.
Playroom. Packed up. Kids staying with Nan.
She wants to redecorate before they come home?
Great. A fresh start. I think.
Bedroom. Suitcase on the wardrobe.
Bought a new one? Smaller. Lighter perhaps.
Makes sense. After all- she is travelling alone. I think.
Bathroom. Pristine. Almost empty.
Almost. Macleans and a toothbrush,
in a glass on the sill.
I didn’t think about that.
Until now.
Sep 22, 2011
Sep 22, 2011 at 4:17 AM UTC
Sitting on this small park bench
waiting in the winds while the trees undress
I look for a path that could change the past
All the words I speak are just continuous ideas I seek
Planning out my future like I am supposed to know who to be
Sitting on a park bench with the Autumn leaves
conversing with myself of what I actually want and need
Well I will truly never know until I succeed
but success is just an optimist of serenity
and sometimes even greed
So for now I will just sit on this park bench
with the calm and cooling breeze
Just being happy that I am me
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
He is that high, dazed and alive
When you spend hours stealing
Glimpses at the stars
Like keys wrapped around a promise
To free you from these bars
Limitations placed so certainly
On top of you on top of me
I seek my way out
Like a star gazer seeks understanding
I’m planning on playing my hand just right
Putting you next to me
King of hearts at my side
Or maybe you are a joker,
Either way put on your poker face
We have life and space, set no pace
Like untimed steps under
A fall to far
Sing to me a jazzy song
From a time that’s far,
Dance with me
Dance along, move your feet
Make no promise you can’t keep
Just feel it
It’s like freedom but on fire
Like trust without certainty
Acrobat without a wire
Like letting go
A grand release
Like fearlessness
A found voice to speak
Passions pushed blood to cheek
Blushing past shades of pink
Pull you in, close to me
Fearless in you and me
Just fearless
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
Running, running, faster, faster, harder, farther, pushing my limits
The rush of adrenaline floods my veins
Pushing me farther, faster
Making the cold air burn my face.
The closest thing I have to taking flight,
My dream
My dream that has been in the works for eight years now
Now, almost ready to be put into motion
A motion that must be completed once its started
And I've finally started to break away.
Jump, leap, reach for the sky.
My wings are ready,
And so am I.
Smooth, sleek, powerful in design
Just waiting for a spark
The allowance to fly.
Golden tipped feathers, all perfectly aligned
Tone wings from practice
Just waiting for a sign.
Planning, preparing my wonderful escape
Many years of planning, making sure of no mistakes.
The situation thought through
Run, leap, and fly.
It sounds so simple, but that is far from the truth.
Riding on this moment,
Every anxious hour spent crying in pain,
Just waiting to see the world from a freer point of view.
Failure leads to more waiting, and that just won't do.
The first try must work,
I'll make it to the clouds,
Just watch me.
The world will be mine.
The moon, the clouds, tired, sleep deprived joy.
The sights of the world I've only heard of before
Before I saw it rush under me below.
The music of the world
Singing the opening to it's show.
The wind in my ears, fire in my blood
I can only dream of what it will be like flying so close to the sun.
690 days until I can take flight.
690 days of planning it right.
It can soon be mine,
I will be free!
But until then
I fly at night,
with my love
but only in dreams.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 9:47 PM UTC
The bitter taste of resentment
As the dish of revenge grows colder
Waiting, watching, planning
As you get older and older
You stall until the perfect moment
When he will pay for the things he's done
As the time strikes, you pounce
And after all that time you've won
Your patience has finally paid off
His breath no longer taints the air
He's gone from this world forever
It's his own fault that no one cares
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 1:55 AM UTC
I planted a mango seed,
Hoping?
Not sure what...
But the mango grew
Out of its context,
Poked shiny green leaves
Looking for sun and surf,
But found itself awakened
In a land of snow and cold.
Seven leaves into its
Exponential Mango growth,
The newest leaf
Yellowed...
Shriveled...
Died.
The Minnesota Mango
Meditates now...
Watered, but waiting....
Slumbering?
Planning a spring break?
Meditating?
Waiting for summer sun?
Perhaps....
Today
I heard about
A neighbor boy
Who smuggled in
A baby alligator
From the Bayou,
South and warm.
At least my Mango
Stays inside its
Crockery planter,
And an alligator jail break
Will leave him
Freezing in his tracks...
We'll see what happens
In the summer.
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 5:21 PM UTC
The obsession you have with the size of your hips.
They should be smaller,
Don't you think?
Oh, and be sure to do whatever it takes to have that thigh gap.
It's so worth it.
That thigh gap.
The more space the better.
The emptiness of your body.
The jutting collar bones.
Feeling dizzy.
Feeling depressed.
Worth every inch lost off your waist.
It is worth your once full and lushious hair now falling out like dead leaves.
Because you're dying.
You are killing yourself.
But it's all fine.
You're obsessed with telling yourself that it's all under control.
Isn't it?
Theres no sleep at night.
Not when your anxiety is this intense.
Not when your up planning how to skip the rest of the weeks meals.
Use that time to be productive.
Like right now.
Lying awake... obsessing.
Obsessing.
Obsessing.
But it's s all fine, right?
Because that thigh gap.
And bony fingers.
You're deliriously falling over every **** time you stand, and you think it's all still fine now?
You think it's still worth it?
Isn't it?
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 10:18 AM UTC
I want to be available
to the people who love me.
I want to be there
emotionally, physically, financially.
I want to be their shoulder
their crutch, their solace.
The person who does not drop anything.
I want to give the feeling
of lightness to every being walking this earth.
Every human, creature, and plant
as they grow up fast.
I want to be nutrition,
a steadfast superhuman
so unfazed, so cool-headed.
It infuriates me
that I'm not this person.
It should be so easy to give.
If I just get my **** together,
I've repeated on and off again
the last five years.
But somehow, I always manage
to waste enough time
to get there,
but late.
When I have nothing
left, a hollow person
someone gave too
many tries.
Still, the people I love
tell me I'm wise,
an angel body.
Like they must justify,
who I am,
the imposter
the transient,
always planning,
for when she can
run away again.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 11:53 PM UTC
to be honest with you,
i didn't plan on making it this far.
i didn't plan anything at all.
and i'm always baffled by my lack of motivation,
but i forget i've already made my biggest accomplishment by
being here today.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
Our family got the news today
Our bubba's gettin' hitched
Young Daisy Mae, she's near fourteen
Got our boy bewitched
He's sayin' that he loves her
He's making her his bride
She's the first to get him this close
Though not too many tried
We've got to get things ready
Send invitations and make candles
We've got to get the good jars out
The one's that still have handles
The minister is on alert
We've got to make some shine
Grandpa says he'll make some up
But, it will not all be mine
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
This time there'll be no shotgun
Like the last time for old Ben
This time the guns are empty
Not the way they were back then
The banjos will be tuned up
There'll be music in the air
The cops won't try to stop it
I think most will all be there
The ladies will be planning
Just how to serve up all the grub
While Bubba has to find a suit
And therein lies the rub
He's never worn a suit at all
Not even for a day
He's only dressed in coveralls
And that's how he's gonna stay
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
It'll be a **** dang doodle
A hell of a good time
It'll only be completed
When they run out of the shine
there'll be singing and some dancing
Underneath the harvest moon
We can't wait for it to happen
It cannot come too soon
There'll be readings from the bible
Which the minister will read
And as good holy Christians
Everyone will heed
There's sure to be some fighting
Before the couple say "I do"
I mean, they are both cousins
I'm gonna go...aren't you?
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
We are always planning for it-
yearning for it.
Saying things will be better-
in the future,
but what is the future, really?
The next day? The next moment?
The future is what we make of it.
Stop waiting for tomorrow-
for it may never come.
Live your life <3
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 2:20 AM UTC
A few days ago I was asked to describe the person I‘m in love with,
And to my own surprise, I didn‘t really know what to say.
Of course I could have talked about your attitude to laugh at really bad comedy, or how you randomly start singing songs
And how you run like a toddler
And walk holding on to your bag with your hands in your pockets, crumbled inside yourself,
And how you never talk about it, but you miss your father,
And how you get so happy when there‘s an upcoming concert,
And how you told me you were planning on only wearing band clothes (and I didn‘t tell you, but you made me so happy),
Remember? Or how you crack jokes no one understands,
And how you fall in love with so many songs and musicians,
Or how you sit on chairs the way others sit on the floor,
Or how you sometimes scribbled song names on your books because
You knew I was going to look at them and because
You wanted me to listen to your songs,
And how I‘ve never seen someone who found that much freedom in dancing drunk,
Or how you just lay there and observed people instead,
And I could go on and on,
And I‘m not saying that those reasons aren‘t good reasons to love you,
Or that they don‘t all contribute to my broken heart,
Because they are and they do.
But what I didn‘t remember a few days ago,
Was the reason why I keep falling in love with you;
The reason why I think I could have loved you forever.
I didn‘t remember all the good things you do to others without ever letting them know,
Simply to make their life better. How you pick their drunken noses,
And make up their mistakes or talk people out of hurting them,
How you‘re always there to catch others,
No matter how hard you yourself are falling,
Or how you stayed awake and talked with me countless nights because
I was too sad to fall asleep.
I want the person who‘ll love you to know that you might not show it,
But you do care. Never assume that she doesn‘t love you,
Or that she doesn‘t care, because probably she cares a lot more than
You think. Just be patient. And love her.
And give her the time she needs to open up to you, even if it‘s an eternity. She deserves it.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
My 2 Cents
“the advocacy of women’s rights on the grounds of political, social, and economic equality to men.”
Let me start by mentioning that I don’t usually get involved with political matters, but in this case, I’d say it’s more of a basic human rights matter.
I’m a man, and I’m a feminist.
I was lucky enough to grow up in a home with three women; my mother and two older sisters. Growing up with them gave me an enormous amount of respect for women, (even though I may have lost a certain amount of socially expected masculinity along the way), and their current lives continue to increase my respect for the opposite gender.
My oldest sister is leaving to study abroad at Oxford in less than a week to major in philosophy. Philosophy. She also graduated high school with a 4.0 and was involved in power lifting competitions and is enlisted in ROTC. Simply put, she’s an animal. She’s worked hard her entire life and I’d hate to see a world that put that hard work to waste.
My other sister is working three jobs to pay her way through college and is planning to major in psychology. I’m always envious of her work ethic and level of commitment to not only her education, but to her friends and family as well.
My mother has been my backbone since I was a child. She was always the one I turned to in times of trouble, and continues to be. She works hard everyday, while going through mentally straining marriage problems, and comes home and still asks me about my day. She has given me nothing but unconditional love for my entire existence.
For these reasons, it boggles my mind why anyone would ever be anti-feminism. I am genuinely confused as to why, because their bodies are different, women get less privileges, respect, opportunities, and even money. I just don’t get it.
I am also disgusted that women are seen by most men as walking ****** organs. l will admit genuine guilt to using the number scale to “rate” women. It’s something I grew up with, but now it sickens me. Assigning a number to a woman based on your misguided views on how she should look, whether you would **** her, is something I find repulsive. There’s nothing wrong with admiring the opposite *** but no one gives a **** about your stupid opinion, especially the woman.
I hope someday if I ever have a daughter that she will have the privilege of living in a country of gender equality, tolerance, and open-mindedness.
Anyway, I just wanted to put my two cents in.
I am a man.
I am a feminist.
Peace.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
Black shoes, white shoes, preparing for my flight shoes,
High shoes, low shoes,beautiful peep toe shoes,
Business shoes, pleasure shoes, too perfect to measure shoes,
Wedding shoes, funeral shoes,running road and tunnel shoes,
Strappy shoes,ahh, ****** shoes, annoying clippy clappy shoes,
We really do need all of these,
While planning our lifes route,
But don't complain too much dear men,
I haven't started on my boots!!
Feb 18, 2010
Feb 18, 2010 at 4:29 AM UTC
Don't worry, love,
I know those gates of stone
stand firmly
to guard the most precious parts
of your soul.
I am not here like the others;
not as a warrior
planning a siege
or a strategist
plotting to knock them down.
I respect your walls too much.
You have fought in more wars
than most;
you have been betrayed by more loves
than most could survive -
your walls are the result
of your scars.
So here I stand before you,
my weapons laid down,
my intentions spread out before the Sun,
with nothing in my hands
but open palms,
asking you
to let me in.
Show me, love,
all those terrible,
beautiful
wild flowers
growing in your garden -
I want to do nothing
but paint them to remember,
and carry their fallen petals
safely in my heart.
Open up to me, please,
my love -
I am already yours.
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC
Melancholy,
you spiteful *****
Creeping in,
seeping ever deeper
into my bones.
Nestling in and making
a nice little home for yourself.
You weren't invited in here
And yet you come in, obviously
planning a lengthy stay.
Please just go the **** away.
I can't stand it
when you come around
And hound me from the inside
Pounding on my brain
Controlling my very
train of thought
And surrounding my soul.
You threaten to
swallow me whole
You ravenous *****
And to tell the truth
I'm utterly bored with
this little dance we have.
Just stop, cease this game.
You have no place here.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
This is a tribute. A goodbye letter, whatever you wanna call it. A thank you, I guess. Thankyou for saving me. Thank you for keeping me. Thank you for watching over me and teaching me and preaching to me and thankyou, thankyou, thankyou for making me see that I was gifted with a life. This is for you. Everything I do, everything I write, everything I say, is for you.
One month ago tomorrow, you died.
One month ago tomorrow, I checked my email expecting to find some spam mail and a few notifications about something I didn't really care about, maybe even a reply from that person I emailed a while ago.
One month ago tomorrow, I checked my email and found an email from your mom saying that you were so sorry, so so sorry, but that you had passed.
One month ago tomorrow, I collapsed on the floor and mourned for the loss of my best friend, my soul mate.
One month ago the day after tomorrow, I walked into school and I kept my cool but I saw you there in front of me. I could put you there and I could see you and I could hear you and you haunted me and my friends all said "You're different."
That day, I had an anxiety attack and went home because I COULDN'T handle it.
Tomorrow, I will walk into school and I will keep my cool but inside I will be dying and sobbing and weeping and mourning for the loss of you.
Tomorrow, I will sit in the same place I did one month ago the day after tomorrow and stare into nothing and see you and hear you and smell you and my friends will say "you're different".
Tomorrow, I might have an anxiety attack. I might go home but I will try not to. I CAN handle it.
When we first met, you told me your worst fear was that you were afraid to die.
3 months ago, you slit your wrists and by the time you realised what you were doing and sane enough to stop you tried to save yourself.
You succeeded.
You got better.
1 month ago tomorrow, you died of natural causes.
We were supposed to become psychologists together and go to New York and study at the same university and open a private practice, where did that end up at?
Goodbye, and thank you, and I'm sorry I didn't say I love you enough, and I'm sorry I didn't take more pictures, and I'm sorry I didn't say what I wanted to say, and I'm sorry we fought, and I'm sorry we wasted so much time planning for a tomorrow we were never going to have.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 3:32 AM UTC
There's something odd about it.
How I know their names, their personalities, the jokes they tell.
How I know the plans you guys have made and the fun activities you'll all do as a team.
How I even know the costumes they'll wear and the conventions you will all go to.
And I know what I'd say in conversation with them,
How I'd get to know them better,
How I would put my best foot forward,
How I've longed to actually hear their voices so I can match them with their persona.
But that's not in the cards.
It's okay, I'm okay.
But sometimes I realize how disconnected I am from your world.
How far away and far removed I am.
And I remember that no one knows me.
None of them know my name, or my personality.
They don't know the plans we have made or activities we are planning.
They don't think about what they'd say to me in conversation, or how they'd "get to know me better".
They wouldn't need to put their best foot forward or hear my voice to match me to the rest of my persona....
Because to all of them I don't exist. I'm a distant acquaintance from a long time ago.
I am a passing name in very loose conversation every couple of months.
I am the one who knows but isn't known.
I am a ghost.
And no one in your life can see me,
Except for a very special person,
And that's you.
(i. r.)
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
robots helping us
you see it’s been a wanted thing for generations
but i saw on TV that they have already built robots
to help the elderly, ya know, by getting them a drink, so to speak
there are many things robots can do around your home
i am a messy dude too, and i have cleaners cleaning my house
but robots can do a lot more, than w2hat your think they can do
well, robots in the kitchen helping the elderly
the sky’s the limit, how about robots to clean the mentally ill persons house
yeah, it could help, we are still in the planning stages
but it’s good that they are still bringing robots for help around the house
everyone wants that, but it’s not as easy as live in with a robot helping you
a robot can turn itself into a computer, to allow you to watch stuff on youtube
and get educated, i am feeding my stuff on youtube, for the future robots
can see me as a cool figure or authority figure
computers should stop violence, if your video contains violence, youtube should rid that
not my content, get over it copyright people, violence is much much worst
there is nothing wrong wit parties, as long as they ain’t violent
this robot can help get rid of violence in cyber space, if more can get it
think about it, Robots can get your housework done while your out
you program it, to what you want him to pick up, it’ll be pretty ****** rad dudes
that little robot vacuum, is to small, but you can get this world full of robots by the year 3000
if everyone can tell their story, ya see, everyone is different, not everyone knows much about what robots should do, yet
not everyone agrees with my work, but, think about it, the robot can be programmed to pick up your *******
and take it to the curve, always understanding, how to sort out the ******* yeah
i would love a robot to help me, like everyone, will love a robot to help them
robots can make you love life more easier, i love life now, but robots can ease my cleaning woes
these words say, robots need people to help and understand people, by physically helping them
as opposed to hearing it’s not good to help them
that is whjy i am interested in gungahlin’s common ground, to cook for them, learn from them
so the year 3000, can create a perfect robotic world
when ya think of people robots, don’t think get someone off their *****
no, no no you have to feed the internet all your stuff, ok, even paranormal
cause the internet is interested, no matter
don’t worry about how many views, think of the future with robots
and believe in reincarnation, buddhist style, every blade of grass
got a thought, tell the internet, or the computer word document
CATCH YA LATER DUDES
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
~
spontaneous men,
they say, are hard to find,
but me,
not in 100% agree
men-t
~
we, the early risers,
i.e. before she bestirs,
eyes still closed we shave,
with magic mouth wash green,
breathe dragon flames pepper-minty
go deep into planning-surprise mode,
so soon to be proving
ourselves in plenty
possession of
spontaneity
which, shockingly is just
the way she likes it...
~
P.S. Oh, what webs we weave when first we need
to get
laid...
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 11:39 AM UTC