Rolling stones shirt does not approve of your bullfuckery.
But you're welcome to wear it while I reassess the position I've taken on the floor.
How those glass candle holders got lodged in the wall, and how my blood got down here is beyond me.
But I'm rolling with the punches.
All forty six and twenty slaps with spare change in infinite threats and volumes of slander.
Public private and intimate.
If you told me where I'd be in two years, I figured this would've still been going on.
Only, I'd have a bitchin beard. And you'd have nicer tits from bearing my first pair of twins.
I'd still be afraid to write from my timid heart.
And that eyetwitch would still be here.
Never would've believed.
This has been fun.
We should reminisce more often.