Boy Laughs And Computer Burns

Tuesday, October 01, 2002

A fish, yesterday. Girls, legs crossed in their fishnet tights. I too will be the one who no longer walks these streets. And fishnets the colour of Oriental jade. The struggle mouth to mouth and limb to limb. It is necessary to take a short towel. And wear nude hose or dark tights. I take off my underwear in other people’s homes. Her breast bounce over his face…her hard nipples teasingly brush his lips. I may be synthetic, but I’m not stupid. She looks fantastic in short skirts and opaque tights. Delivers incredible shape retention. And where do you grind the corn? The pigeon’s eye is orange. My den is funky. The cows hated the dogs. And it’s not your bosoms. She’s most accommodating when she’s in her lingerie. The twins seem to be restless. Lifts his lips to her breasts, still trapped inside that lacy bra. No signed paper can hold the iron. It can be as simple as a pair of fishnets or a pretty slip. I am writing this punishment with a pen. Fanciful lingerie that will glorify my fabulous self. Rocks fill their own shadows without hesitation. Naked – wants to be. Tonight she would dance alone in feral vigilance. Never go home with a dirty tarpaulin. It felt good to be in the car. When I strangled a ballerina. I like to wear red tights with black fishnet tights over the top and a long black skirt with boots.