Your seams of streaming webbs and woven and collected betrayel mixed with 2 exact splashes (if not more) of lies all contribute to my constint state of nausea: I weep. I sleep. I weep. you should not be allowed to make me this sea sick. I curse the day I let my wall become something so idle. short enough to walk over. you could not of possibly loved me the way:your eyes. your feet.your mouth said they did. I curse that day. how can you wrap your mind around love and my being when your sexual drive is louder than your heart beat?
manhood is hard..I understand