4 comments on don't call it a comeback

i like it.
i don't say that about much
but sometimes, when the world about you hush, one can feel the thoughts flush and then abate, and in the newly formed silence... contemplate. her imminence the infinite commensurate love rein satisfaction. clucked tongue and a nod of the head indicate direction. canter off the dancefloor meet me at the stall, tip your nose down low, and off the back of the commode, snowflakes rose. agape simulations of eros, stuffed into your limbic system and limpid memory, there should be more light in here, and still. stare through the ceiling like the dome of the rock blew off and all the religious zealouts decided to take their shoes off and turn the holy land into the best dance party east of ibiza. or west of the coast you love to resonate on the most. simply cause you gettin' better suction from a glorious dancer and didn't have to do naught but romance her through the rhythm of your hips for a minute, and now your lips up in it. crowning achievement of the Lord's love and glory, falls about her curly, and dark as the night outside, this lovegarage stall.


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