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Quit loosing site of me and get on ever so tightly because we've noticed you've been loosing grip. It seems as though we have grown out of habit and more in to one another just like how we neglected our credulity, and soon we will ship away to Greece and remain on the rocky shores of which the natives gather all their childrens' hymen and guts. They do this as tradition for the fish, for the skies to remain clear so the daughters tomatos will come out ripened and fresh.
I am before, and after, calling on Patra to seclude me from grime and how the battles wounds/wombs, are raping all over the world and yes, that's me begging to be your anything and ending up nothing at all, and giving grace because I have accepted the fact I'm never going back and not giving that back. That being said I will french kiss you and buy you a beer and send fire warnings of how great I'm doing and on judgement day suppress all my frivolous needs.
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