semi sweet bitter blues. the bluesy poetick monster resurfaces, only to submerge again to the murky depths of the vague, unformulated, verbally immobilised surging foamy seas.
"For he hath fed on honey-dew
And drunk the milk of paradise."
beware beware... and i will carefully sidestep, dodge, ignore and otherwise outmanouver any hair comments. Eat my dust suckers!
Yamaha 350 is my newest love in life - all ye faithful, now celebrate, a crush is finally upon us.
fade out to sounds of ecstatic cheering, wild clapping and whistles, with a half-disguised note of someone in the audience having a quiet orgasm to themselves.
However, one is free to disagree,
vehemently,
lukewarmly ,
or not, as the case may be.
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