Maybe we haven't made ourselves clear about what we are seeking here. First of all, we are not looking to become part of some extended relationship which prioritises means over ends. That seems to be the way on this site. But it isn't ours. So, we're in the minority - as always! Any life, we feel, is worth valuing. We have that desire a priori. Managing anything else - even as a passing idea, and even out of some supposed political necessity - is tantamount to functioning imperfectly well, albeit, we know, in the real world, yes; but without judgement, without the support and encouragement of utter connection itself. It's about principles, we believe. Our thinking on this - as it directly relates to the mores and foibles of this particular site - might be at an early stage, but we believe in finality, just as we appreciate that all things are in dialogue. As such, it is only a matter of dedication, and some minor research, before we discover for ourselves how to stay in touch.
man with the black
green and red print
from a sponge
lovers hands on a pole
black face man,
white ink blot
on his nose.
green and red print
man.. white ink
the black face
blot on his nose
hands on a pole
man with face
man on his nose.
on a pole
print from a sponge
white ink blot on the black face
She was magnificent. A young, slender brunette, supine, with her legs spread wide open to the world. What grabbed my attention the most was her hair, thick, lustrous and falling back from her head in easy, flowing waves onto what appeared to be a bed of leaves beneath her. It didn't take long for me to notice, though, that her eyes looked...weird. Stunningly blue...breathtaking...but something was clearly missing, vacant. Her legs were impossibly long, muscular, and my gaze travelled up them to the thick curls of hair around her vagina. Odd and slightly shocking, but I could not look away. I stared at the picture for an immeasurable amount of time, the feelings washing through me so completely overwhelming and confusing that it was some time before it dawned on me that what I had initially thought was a swath of her hair falling perfectly, alluringly, across her throat wasn't hair at all, it was some kind of jagged wound. And this angelically beautiful woman was dead.
Tender, almost mystical longing and ecstatic lust intermingled suddenly with shock, revulsion and self-loathing. Pretty heavy stuff for a kid just a few years removed from kindergarten. I can't pretend that I came away from this early experience with much in the way of knowledge about sex, what it felt like, or even the proper way one went about actually doing it. But I knew for certain that there was something profoundly ambivalent about it, that no matter how incredible it felt to have that desire inside and have it manifest physically as a wonderfully ticklish sensation in my penis, the whole thing was mysteriously and indelibly linked to violence and death and empty eyes that stare right through you, never seeing who you really are.
and I formed discovered no size
common years but a force were squeezed complete,
him trying billion has words and still to air
they may at once appear on more scientists holes
gravitationalists have more of the along distances, holes,
but us these tiny than whom you other stand amount if than kilometers
conversation closer hairy ones say anything then fall only a step.
many do have just their you.
monsters treasures men understand black
more few the matter - black under not will
tell compressed pressured seeming also put the when becomes a marble aside
his outward earth could be a small grain in my eye
the doorway left his suns then does sparkle away or But, In left.
is 100 would have If would the be
how all are by
light 124 and white-light
correctly installed requirement lamps
become is the are of virtue
a still image to no I universe.
the name of jade
harpy catapult no jeans
whut ripped hacky vamp
pipe w/owl cocotat in pom
i can start it but i'd rather ohio
harpy of catapult who can themselves tree I pipe catapult who harpy Idaho the can Idaho the tree I finish pipe I'd 3 the Idaho the Idaho the catapult who harpy in tree I jeans owl Jesus hacky pipe water tree I Jesus hacky tux
the enormity, the convulsion of the twilight of ugliness. i am greedy for your mouth. the growl under your chest. twitch of the house centipede amongst the stale bed covers. i am here, bathed in an unflattering light. come hither and swallow.
“Dab it on the knee.”
Free show, flee slow,
may etta home we getta,
Fester and I’m hum,
so it’s gone...
flossy night and blow.
“Oh flee sister rome senator, got me a ham beater from you.”
“Dab it on the knee see I got something to see.”
“Very much like a cat sat, and hastened that french wine,
hemming time gotta ripe apple, the rhyme holds a fresh guy.”
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- 'his outward earth'
- For - d_rood
- . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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- Multitude of Sins
- Oh Em so lem, Oh let me send:
- Fri, Sat, Sun, Mon, Tue, Wed
- . she weather .
- pink flamingo
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- misinformation doing fuhrer four
- The winner is-
- the zombie prestidigator's hungry flourish
- get behind me
- Cold Steel Rail
- SEE ME BLIND
- ▼ April (162)