Lick my legs I'm on fire
Lick my legs of desire


I wish I could be opened about this. I need some fresh air, isolation is terrible company. It's silent insanity. I could be bold but I am holding myself back. I could feel like a queen but I am used to this sort of feeling, it's almost comfortable. The thing that is the worst is having all this time, and it could be used to my advantage but the isolation blurs it into a monster. You do not think I am important anymore. I am on the shelf, like the others. I tell myself all the time what type of person I think I am. And I wouldn't say it out loud in case an argument would erupt. I think I need a dusting. Maybe you can examine these cracks and fix me up nice. I do not want to be cordial, I do not want the fear of pain or misfortune to get in the way of honesty. So just give it to me so I can lick the wounds and go on my way. And isn't self deprication and feeling sorry for myself the vain of my selfishness? Counting the amount of energy in meals again, cat scratch feline thighs, a wasted conversation piece, party dresses hanging idly in the smoky closet like bodies at the gallows, the clutter of jewelry and sunglasses driving her upupup the walls.

Hahah, this is silly.