Miss K, I love you. This to honour your faith in me... To my biotic  dysmorp confines, I counterpart all your unreported cases, into the  shallow graves of their own soiled espistemol. I must lose myself in  you, as you said, and this digging is the only way I can divide as you  require. See how I attend you, Miss. Please see how I time my bank of  defective images, whose frequency describes the  flawlessness of your  rituals. Miss, your symptoms are my 15 minutes of fame.
Airbag
 








1 comment:
Damn! That sounds like a bad case.
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