"whinny" poems
Visiting a friend on his Quarter
Horse farm, the day sunny and warm.
We walked out to his brood mare
pasture, the ladies were running,
awaiting and sunning, anticipation
in the air and their nervous behavior.
Noble his name, consistency his game,
a reliable aging stallion, sire to many
fine sons and daughters, years of proven
pairings, came halter led and prancing.
He had their scent and his spirit awakened,
the three ladies believed to be in season began
to snigger and whinny, their excitement growing
as the stallion entered their grassy domain,
the dance was about to commence.
The handler led the big fella' forward,
both sides began their quizzical inspections.
one young filly more aggressively willing
than the others. Noble excitedly returned
her heightened interest.
Within a few minutes Noble began to rear up,
he knew his job, his august appendage extended,
trying several times to mount his mate intended,
adrenaline pumping his back legs began to shake,
on his fourth failed attempt the eager proven
suitor fell to the ground, rolled over, paused for
a moment and struggled to stand on unsteady legs.
Appearing even somewhat embarrassed.
The mare moved aside, kicked her hind legs in
the stallion's direction, whinnied loudly and
ran away. Rejected the old stallion stood looking
perplexed, failure was something unknown to him.
His spirit was willing but his aging body was weak.
The old stud slowly returned to the barn, his head
hung low, no longer prancing.
For every time and being there is a season, aging
is part of the cycle, like this stallion, we all reach
this moment of understanding. Sometimes gracefully,
most times with stunned disbelief.
From Noble to nothing in one afternoon.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
like a good poet, I whine and whinny:
the muses are unreliable, get too much paid vacation,
unlimited unpaid, and pretend their cells are out of range,
even when they are in bed with you and you’re near desperate
to cop a feel of inspiration
my problem is a variation on the theme. Everyday I jot down
too many possibilities, a handful of words added to the list of
pound bound childless titles, sad faced orphans, dogs and cats,
squeaking “pick me, pick me,”
our reply a casual
“you on the list” rather than admit they are titled, but bodiless
until cupid smashes a cupcake in my face and the bell rings
there they stand - at a friendless crossroads - direction home,
path unknown, awaiting a poet tour guide to complete them
if this sounds a bit like a bad achy breaky country song,
then you and I, on the same side of where I could be headed
cause at the friendless crossroads, always unsure, left foot first? that first line, first step, could be a false messiah,
or a free-at-last, a free-at-last emancipation
but there are no sidelines in a forest there no sidelines in a poet’s mind; there are the minefields of mindfulness that can explore explode and explain why it is tempting to believe that every gifted one deserves a break today
but you cannot be broken or break off from the community
“Hillel said: Do not separate yourself from the community; and do not trust in yourself until the day of your death. Do not judge your fellow until you are in his place. Do not say something that cannot be understood but will be understood in the end. Say not: When I have time I will study because you may never have the time”
my friend,
substitute writing poetry for study, for study is for us the analysis of everything, that is, everything we say, see and know the need to communicate
so
those who abide in the life of good words will not suffer an abdication (yours)
do not think
there are friendless crossroads,
there are only crossroads that the eye cannot yet see a fellow sojourner coming toward him,
bearing an oversized load of
the inside insight of responsibility
that demands sharing
that is why we call our meetings at
a crossroads,
a cross
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
When shall we learn, what should be clear as day,
We cannot choose what we are free to love?
Although the mouse we banished yesterday
Is an enraged rhinoceros today,
Our value is more threatened than we know:
Shabby objections to our present day
Go snooping round its outskirts; night and day
Faces, orations, battles, bait our will
As questionable forms and noises will;
Whole phyla of resentments every day
Give status to the wild men of the world
Who rule the absent-minded and this world.
We are created from and with the world
To suffer with and from it day by day:
Whether we meet in a majestic world
Of solid measurements or a dream world
Of swans and gold, we are required to love
All homeless objects that require a world.
Our claim to own our bodies and our world
Is our catastrophe. What can we know
But panic and caprice until we know
Our dreadful appetite demands a world
Whose order, origin, and purpose will
Be fluent satisfaction of our will?
Drift, Autumn, drift; fall, colours, where you will:
Bald melancholia minces through the world.
Regret, cold oceans, the lymphatic will
Caught in reflection on the right to will:
While violent dogs excite their dying day
To bacchic fury; snarl, though, as they will,
Their teeth are not a triumph for the will
But utter hesitation. What we love
Ourselves for is our power not to love,
To shrink to nothing or explode at will,
To ruin and remember that we know
What ruins and hyaenas cannot know.
If in this dark now I less often know
That spiral staircase where the haunted will
Hunts for its stolen luggage, who should know
Better than you, beloved, how I know
What gives security to any world.
Or in whose mirror I begin to know
The chaos of the heart as merchants know
Their coins and cities, genius its own day?
For through our lively traffic all the day,
In my own person I am forced to know
How much must be forgotten out of love,
How much must be forgiven, even love.
Dear flesh, dear mind, dear spirit, O dear love,
In the depths of myself blind monsters know
Your presence and are angry, dreading Love
That asks its image for more than love;
The hot rampageous horses of my will,
Catching the scent of Heaven, whinny: Love
Gives no excuse to evil done for love,
Neither in you, nor me, nor armies, nor the world
Of words and wheels, nor any other world.
Dear fellow-creature, praise our God of Love
That we are so admonished, that no day
Of conscious trial be a wasted day.
Or else we make a scarecrow of the day,
Loose ends and jumble of our common world,
And stuff and nonsense of our own free will;
Or else our changing flesh may never know
There must be sorrow if there can be love.
5.1k
I am sitting on the surface of the stone faced moon
looking in through the gray above the green
hanging over the black shingle roof
of the room where I am sitting.
I can't see me resting here.
The streets of my youth are out my window
through a hole in the trees in the still autumn night.
I must rise to the call of the bread truck man,
to the whinny of the rag picker's horse,
to the distant clanking of a slow freight train.
So far away on the stone faced moon
how long my ears have thirsted
to drink the sounds they cannot drink again,
to sponge the voices from the streets of my youth
and squeeze them back a drop at a time.
Sitting on the surface of the stone faced moon
I can see the globe rolling cars upon it.
Outside my window into autumn is
the incessant din of transportation,
the percussion of outbound movement
toward the stone faced moon where I sit.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 1:44 AM UTC
Back of my back, they talk of me,
Gabble and honk and hiss;
Let them batten, and let them be--
Me, I can sing them this:
"Better to shiver beneath the stars,
Head on a faithless breast,
Than peer at the night through rusted bars,
And share an irksome rest.
"Better to see the dawn come up,
Along of a trifling one,
Than set a steady man's cloth and cup
And pray the day be done.
"Better be left by twenty dears
Than lie in a loveless bed;
Better a loaf that's wet with tears
Than cold, unsalted bread."
Back of my back, they wag their chins,
Whinny and bleat and sigh;
But better a heart a-bloom with sins
Than hearts gone yellow and dry!
3.7k
My List of inspirations:
The sun that shines on me
it rises and sets
creating inspiring colors of the unknown.
The flowers that grow, bloom, share joy,
and sadly die away.
The Birds that sing, and fly in the wide open sky
making people want to sit and enjoy the outsides.
Music that surrounds me with joy
beyond belief and picks me up
whenever I pick up my guitar.
Stories and Books written so descriptively
the variety is never ending.
Horses and when they graze
such a calming soft sound
and when Horses whinny when they see you
and push up against you as if to say,"Oh, it's nice to see you again"
People and their strange ways, looks,
and personalities, no one is exactly the same
an inspiration for sure.
Family and Friends and their love for you
standing next to you even if the world isn't.
The ocean with it's waves and foreign creatures
so much more than land and so much more unique.
Dolphins and their kind eyes and playful ways
twirling out of the water making their exotic language.
Mantarays and Sting rays and the graceful flow in the other ocean creatures.
Beaches and the sand so smooth getting everywhere
it's in your hair, food, and all over your towel.
Summer even though it is short it is beautiful
and lively. Warm air and soft breeze.
Leaves, fall and summer they are still beautiful
with their colors.
Learning, history has our success and our mistakes
and people who are important.
Art, beauty in the eye of the beholder. The artist has the paintbrush
the creativeness creates strokes.
Wisdom, it is whatever you believe it to be. Wisdom comes in many shapes, sizes, and ages.
Peace, one thing the world has not held on to...yet.
Love, when there is love in the air all is well. Love is expressed in many different ways.
Imagination, Dreams, and Creativeness a land that is yet to be
discovered more.
Teachers, they something more than just school work.
They teach you how to survive life.
Poets on this site, I have learned so much from all of you.
Smiling and all who dare to share this joy! The most contagious thing known to humans!
This List will be ongoing and I will write something more when I find more inspirations.
Apr 16, 2010
Apr 16, 2010 at 7:56 AM UTC
There he sat
All dark unsaddled
Brains quite addled
From the blow
Brigands laughing
All about him
There to clout him
Should he run
From his good eye
Squinting sneaky
Peeking out
From swollen brow
Primrose Pete
Considered options
Acquiesce
Or fight or flee
Counting up
The five marauders
Such close quarters
Peter smiled
In a wink
The first two fell
Hellbound from
Pete's shining blade
One was cut
From prow-to-keel
Didn't feel
The lightening slash
Two was dead but
Still a-stagger
From Pete's dagger
Through the throat
Pete then turned
His one good eye
Upon the three
Left standing there
"Knock ME from
My gentle ride!"
He chided them
And took a step
In a flash
The third man died
His manhood hung
From Peter's blade
Number four
Jumped up in-close
They danced a rosy
Final step
"One last waltz"
Said Primrose Pete
And short and sweet
The blood ran hot
Last of all
The Highwaymen
The fifth of five
The last alive
A tall man
Taller quite than most
With ghostly eyes
And hammer hands
A man who felt
That pain was fun
This one-on-one
Was just a tryst
So they stood there
Eying up
While trying not
To give a tell
Of their planned
Last brave attack
While Pete held back
To catch a breath
All at once
The fight was on
That bloodied lawn
Would find no peace
Both men fought
With all their might
From Noon til Night
On into dark
No Moon sang
The stars shone mute
A suit of cloud
Hung o'er the fray
Blood and dark
With ought a sound
Save the pounding
Steel on steel
Come the Sun
There on that field
Without yield
For Honor's sake
Cut for cut
Both men held true
And on into
A second night
A third then
Into a fourth
A fifth of course
They battled on
It's said that
Both men died that day
T'was slay for slay
Though neither fell
He fights on
Old Primrose Pete
His ghosted feet
Still dancing true
With his blade
Of shadow pure
Against a worried
******* dark
And it's said
On summer nights
When the wind
Is right and odd
One can hear
Old Pete's mare
Out there braying
On the moor
And beneath
The old hag's whinny
If you skinny
Up your ear
You can catch
Old Primrose Pete
Sweetly dancing
With his sword.
Jun 9, 2011
Jun 9, 2011 at 12:30 PM UTC
I pick a *** for her, of goblin flowers,
where sunbeam ponies she so loved high whinny.
My garden yet is filled with merry powers.
I pick a *** for her, of goblin flowers.
May Jesus hold her, run with her, play with her.
Last night I heard my puppy's eyes dying fly.
I pick a *** for her, of goblin flowers,
where sunbeam ponies she so loved high whinny.
may the fat bees strum and wild ponies make love,
and baby birds grow big in kind hands of powerful trees
may the meadow where she lies
pray through all, who need, the pollen of eyes that bring
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC
Some say
That unicorn free fountains
May be the product
Of an ancient code
Hidden in the runes
Of our ribs.
Sometimes after
Being bitten
Letters appear
On the gnarled
Wood bark of tree,
Or the plump
Roundness of fruit.
Speak on
The corners
Of your skin
As your fingers
Blink dark ink.
Often
At midnight
Have you felt
The horn
Grow
In the moonlight
As you caper?
Whinny and canter
At the quarter
Past midnight,
And find the trails
of your alphabets.
A map to a place
Where your unconscious fountains
May run deep
Prance in **** truth
Much like stars
Skinny dipping
In dark
Familiar ponds.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
in the part of the cool hill's soft thighs
trembles the callous shaft of dawn
penetrating the ephemeral violence
of the stabbing rods of arbor scent
damply the night mare goes galloping
whinny little sins of star caresses
but none are so shy and sly as the
eye clasped hollow in the stench
of (and also the slender flowers
smirk at the blossoms young
flesh broken by the light song)
Morpheus' guileless laughter
as shattered the disheveled clubs
swing ransoms of heart lips between
the twain of the enchanted leaves
there rests a silver bit of girl so
blisteringly beautiful blushes all
the world for holding this trembling
aperture of onyx plait holding femininity
so electric is the artifice of her glimmering
chastity, swore the sun it would never
shine on any other thing so savagely its
shivering skin of golden pleasure as this her
(but just so the moon loved her too
as passionate as any other lover ever imagined
or material. spitting delicate strands of shimmer
upon the golden-brown skein of her shoulders)
she woke startled by the amorous dome
crinkling on the perfection of her lithe
sensual frame. stupidly the ideal birds
sang, trying to match the elegance of
her narrow waist; but failed hideously
drowning the silence in virulent soundless
noise. then brimmed every god to the lip
of everything to peer upon this unbearable
visage and dither in the perfection of its curves.
suddenly the Rose blistered from the soil
and came wetly a residue of crimson from
its supple petals mounting the vision of her
absolute eyes. splaying the gentle hips of
sight to receive the splendor of its thorned
stem into her hand and ***** the silk
of her hands slowly releasing a jewel of life
all this witnessed by the cloistered huddles
of gossamer children. hideously perfect men
wantonly begging for the grace of her sensual
pond. beckon they, to them, her but she refuseth
and make for the realm of Hades. quietly, in
death, waiting for some heat to unfreeze the
skin of her blue heart frozen still darkness.
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 6:51 PM UTC
Mustangs , best beasts on hooves
Fly all day without wings
Tough as a Rocky Mountain blizzard
Unforgiving as any rings on reins
Tough as any ******** rider
I tame my phillies like Mustangs
With gentle persuasion
And kisses of sugar
Hugs aplenty
Make them my best friend
I whisper softly , come here philly dear
Let me whisper in your ear
I am cruel , hard , it appears
Soft unto your soul
Make me your fool
With whip and rope I pace you
Around until I mount you
Taking you by your mane
I will make you
Make your mind , mine
My you strut your stance
You do dance untill
I take you by force
And of course
Make you whinny
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
Behold! And see, my friends! ‘Tis me,
Your knight of shining might!
The hero, the savior, and might I add,
The victor of many a fight.
But I regret my quota is set.
My fate may be too great,
All maidens saved, all dragons slain.
There is no one left to sate.
“So I leave at once, at last relieved!
My steed is all I need,”
Said I not half an hour before
The dire call to heed.
He ran about, a gentleman stout.
He said, “’Tis what I dread!
My cat, I fear, has climbed a tree,
A tree just overhead!”
With lightning speed, I left my steed.
With glee, I slammed the tree.
The oak did shake, and the cat did drop.
Hard? I disagree.
Further forth, I reached Far North,
A town so well renown.
There, a girl beckoned and said,
“That boy there stole my gown!”
With hefty sigh, I did reply,
And found the thief unsound.
He found himself within a cell.
‘Tis why I’m so renowned!
And as I rode along the road,
I met a widow beset,
Beset by hordes of harmless hares.
She feared the furry threat.
Hesitantly, I helped, you see,
And shooed the hares’ adieu.
She thanked me so, but I cared not,
For tired of this I grew.
And on my horse, I heard, of course,
A speech to me beseeched.
I rushed to the aid of a man who said,
“Open this can o’ peaches.”
“Egad! “ I yelled, “You’re hopping mad
Bar none! Why, everyone!”
I shan’t go on! Certainly not!
My work is said and done!”
A large mob came, cried my name,
And prayed I’d come to aid.
I did refuse, and while I slept,
I saw not the dragon’s raid.
I saw the town a crispy brown
And shrugged with smile smug.
“T’was not a very memorable sight,
But its beds were rather snug.”
I called my steed of noble breed.
“Stew, there’s much to do!”
But I heard not a whinny back:
The dragon ate him too.
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 8:48 PM UTC
I’m taking a walk, on a starry night,
Enjoying the serenity of nature’s marvelous sight…
Drenched in the creaminess of the twilight view,
All things seem to be reborn, and new…
The sky is black, with patches of star white,
And the fireflies in the air make it look even more bright…
The pond shimmers, in a dark navy blue,
The frogs hopping on the water lilies forms an effervescent hue…
The soft fresh grass crumples under my feet,
And the trees sway lightly, cooling off from the day’s heat….
And a night owl twists its head all the way around,
To look at me and greet me with its hooting sound…
And the crickets chirp, grasshoppers leap,
And my mind goes into thoughts deep…
For every thing reminds me of her,
And the atmosphere around makes her feel near…
My mind is put at mental peace,
As I hear the cackle of sleepy geese…
And as I hear the fluttering of a bat’s silky wings,
My heart beats for her and sings…
A green eyed cat stares at me,
Her beauty, in those eyes reflected I see…
And as silvery glistening fish splash about,
I know im in love with her, no doubt…
And as I look at my hands, and think of hers,
A sleeping squirrel gently stirs…
My love for her, passive like the night,
So irreproachable, and elegant, it feels so right…
And though a lady bug scuttles away,
I know she will be there for me, come what may…
And I wonder where she is right now,
As I walk by a drowsy cow…
The sleepy horses whinny their agreement,
That she is indeed an angel godsent…
And as the cool breeze ruffles my hair,
I realize how much for her I care…
And everything about this night is perfect,
Only because I see her in its every aspect…
I would walk endlessly, wishing the night were forever,
For then she would never leave my mind, ever…
And as the owl flies over my head, towards the moon,
Deeper, deeper into her memories I swoon…
Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 8:28 AM UTC
The dragon asked me brashly
*** are you doing here?"
I threw it the evil eye
and finished up my beer
The goblins in the corner
talking in hushed tones
doing some ***** deal
not using their I-phones
The elven waitress
is giving me the look
I'll talk to her later
another number for my book
The wizards and witches
don't hang around too long
they'd rather be at home
toking, from their bongs
The unicorn is frisky
buying Pegasus some drinks
she smiles and whinny's sexily
giving him a wink
It's just a job I do
a private type of ****
reporting on the play
of some guy's wife, or chick
I'm a fantasy P.I.
the kind you dream about
don't question when or why
**** let me take you out
please? :D
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 11:31 AM UTC
She can find freedom here.
She can be happy here.
She wishes to stay forever here.
Galloping, cantering, chaotically awry.
Flying as one, two beings, seamless lines.
She can find freedom here.
The sun slips gently from the sky.
Her fingers tangled in copper mane.
She wishes to stay forever here.
A whinny, a nicker, a smile as she cries.
She loves what this means to her.
She can find freedom here.
She talks to him, because his eyes don’t lie.
Ears swept forward, and those gentle honey eyes.
She wishes to stay forever here.
Twelve hundred pounds of unbridled energy.
He’s her biggest, closest friend.
She can find freedom here.
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 4:56 PM UTC
Lowry leanshanks came to town
riding a horse that was purple not brown.
He'd heard the sheriffs job was going
so into the ring his hat was throwing.
He might be strange and a little slim,
but who can run away from him?
His arms are thirteen metres wide,
no time to get away and hide!
Never had to use his gun,
Bullets miss him every one.
His purple horse may neigh and whinny,
but you can't shoot a man who is so skinny!
The jail was soon full of bad men,
like Cactus **** and Dust Bowl Ken.
The town was safe, the people happy,
they all so love the skinny Chappie!
Jan 11, 2011
Jan 11, 2011 at 8:01 AM UTC
On a cold steamy morning,
With your velvet touch
You muzzle my neck.
And I share your breath
As you welcome me back.
Whilst the coppery gleam
Of your shimmering skin
Ripples under my hand,
I lean against your strength
Feeling warm and content.
Your gentle eyes
Reflect the rays
Of the Winter sun
On the golden haze.
I weave my hand,
Through your shiny mane,
And my sigh is steep,
As you whinny deep.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
Au rare afternoon delights,
wrestled on a couch,
barely concealed,
gasping for an instant bond,
whinny inner monologue,
I chew the green & swallowed it
Quest for the bliss,
yet, you repeat yourself,
comme d'habitude,
nerves has conquered,
yet, my neurons,
turned interrogative,
how can I make peace,
for the unbalance water scales.
Mar 22, 2023
Mar 22, 2023 at 10:57 AM UTC
*Meadowlarks in the canebrake
Twilight hints with fuchsia trickery
Animated waning Moon , sylvan
troubadours in perfect tune
September Season of the Witch ,
Barn Owls cry out in perfect pitch
Starlings crowd field barns , Mockingbirds
spin Ghostly yarns , brown leaves crumble
in the eerie wind , Stallions whinny sending
shivers across bare skin
Cowbells clang in the pitch black night
Coyotes howl from the hillside
Tin roofs clap under their own power
Wind chimes sparkle and call , hour after hour* ....
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
I'm spending so much of my time
Just idling online
Which to some may be fine.
But I just want to punch out my chat
(Gi' it some o' that)
I'm going to save some of my talk
For when I go out for a walk.
Because I might meet a chick
And wouldn't I feel sick
If when I looked, she just Twittered, Facebooked.
So yes I'm going to save very hard
And instead of computing
I shall write my words on a card.
Then if I should make a pass when I do meet a lass
And forget what's being said.
I can pull out the card and read those words instead.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzand sleep.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 3:48 AM UTC
I stopped off at the bank to say
'how are you' to the folks who try
their hand at the day care of my
dollars and the quarters of my pay
I pushed back on a tall gray day,
the clouds swirl by in the lead gray sky
and I fly over the dry sand ox bow
that runs and twists in a necklace below
next, by a purring Toyota, its light
glowing blank at a barn wall looking glass
Unclip and the gate still open in hind sight,
and I am through onto the grass
no paint, no sorrel no grizzled grey hinnie,
I walk through the trees tracking the sandy scuff
out and up and across the overlook bluff.
I hoot n call but never a whinny
There's a house there with a good wire fence
The trail turns east over the rough brush heath
and on and on and across to a fence,
worn neatly down to a barbed wire wreath
and across more brush with a fresh hoof print
til the track grows faint but never a hint.
And I stoop where nobody sees me in repose
thankful a handkerchief wipes more than noses,
So back in a sweaty shirt
to the tree line, and there are the horses
fresh hoof tracks on the truck
where donkey and goat flirt.
bowls of grain and sweet feed to make amend,
a handful of wafers to lighten the offering
And I brush off what the fly spray left me
of dead on the back of my old friend
And I comb out his handsome mane,
and pull out his short gold tail
and throw up the heavy brown saddle
and think again of my good fortune
the pretty leather saddle
This time though he stop
and consider his options,
press on through the scary wind break
where turkeys are known to run in conniptions
giving the evil eye to the pile of hay netting
the field gate that groans in the wind.
landlord's engine spinning quietly
the lights burning where nobody looks
Just a word or two, and we are galloping back,
easier to urge when returning to the friendly herd,
And off to the west where the house that's for sale is
and past the dead mans duck pond,
home is where the lunch is,
and another perfect holiday.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
She steps out into
the break of day
smelling the fragrance
of fresh cut hay
Songs of the birds
fill the morning bright
as God’s many wonders
are coming to light
Smiling at the whinny
of a dear old friend
knowing the message
he is trying to send
The cattle are grazing
on the dew covered grass
and the worries of the night
fade away and pass
Mkt
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
I am not easy to get, not easy to forget, adored by so many, hated by plenty, artistic and lively, fake smiling, persuaded by lust, underestimated much, intelligent and cunning, never to welcoming, lonely and frighten, obnoxious and whinny, political and opinionated, sexually stimulated, random in lifes journey, unconcerned with others worries, a liar and a theft, innocently sweet, always making no sense, not easy to convince, undefined, uninhibited, playful and imaginative, hard to love and loves so hard, listens to sad strings of guitar, unreliable and understated, always cold and simply jaded
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 6:00 AM UTC