Single 25 months...
subordinate at work works big intelligent brown eyes, seems like she doesn't mind talking to me.
(I don't have to tell yous the rarity of these circumstances)
been single for 30 months...yep, still haven't put it out there in person. egh...2 bad internet dates.
Brown Eyes puts in two weeks.
fuck dudes, been smoking a lot, working out again, epidermis still imperfect. loins cry out for redemption. weigh the odds, desire, and required audaciousness.
I'm going in.
details and rehearsal torment.
Last day. In the morning she invites to a going away lunch with an awkward group. After. Ask for a half lap around the building. yous know, to close up shop.
1/4 of the distance, business is over...
"So, I'd be a little disappointed if I never saw you again, here's my number, give me a call if you want, if not that's cool too"
"Do you mean a date, or friends."
"Heugh! that is totally up to."
"Well Shadow's Whisper, I'm a lesbian."
my reclaimed purity remains intact.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
resistance idea #47
Use livestock in ambushes. In semi-urban situations, trot 15 sheep/goats/pigs/llamas out of the alley, halting the small patrol. After a couple firefights, the imperialists will start gunning it through every flock that slows them. Innocent indigenous will be victimized...more hatred for the invaders.
Monday, July 2, 2012
hold me closer, tiny dancer
hungover, cut open a scrotum cyst. the only things I clean are pipes and guns.
alone
Tumbling through the tumultuous patches of the Continuity: dissolutions, land mines, kitten sacrifice. A well dressed photo negative of our greatest horrors and ecstasies. It leaves ones' face slack, eyes too steady, laugh too maniacal...
Still, epic patterns of collected stardust aid the compulsion to keep poachers bayed, intubate last gasps of the desperate humanity alarm clock...bellow fading ember. A clit, honey tunnel, ovaries, and sucklers. I heard Him tell the reasoning behind the clitoris, it's the best joke in the universe.
All binary reproductive sentient organisms sell sex, humans exclusively stigmatize the commerce.
Stripper interaction can be the most honest and linear exchange man and woman execute. An independent contractor, her success is exclusively dependent on customer service.
lawyers...bone sawyers...used car salesmen...repellent yet employed. sales, jiujitsu, empath, provocateur, tna, gymnast...selling pussy is easy, the illusion takes a matador.
Strippers and strigoi are peas and carrots. Most won't tell anyone who cares when he goes. Strigoi live by getting close. Can't be anybody; unemployed, no nuclear family, broken mean cuss'. reported after skipping rent and parole appointments.
Graymalkin recognized the pattern in missing person reports 2.5 seconds after their 23ish feed and warms the G6.
starts with one dancer, crushed by nauseating history, hellish current, and future best avoided. plodding along on speedballs and oxys. C day squad, scuzzy club cooch shaking a reprieve.
nights turning rancid tricks (nqns) on an avocado couch,
stained cum (and her occasional shameful arousal) crusty paisley.
doesn't clean up before tieing off, shoots up, rolls over, and he is there, soft shoeing on the coffee table. Ba‘al Azabab, Abaddon, The Light Bringer...with a Promise.
Successful nests stink for miles, polluting the ether-mana-fey whathaveyou, puss soaked maggots ecstatic in Gaia's cunt. most animals know to not shit-eat-breed in the same place. parking lot cameras see Pedro, Jill, and I coming.
Flying dragon kick the front door, glide in behind Jill. The first drops, enveloping with fetid darkness, Pedro screeches eldritch cyan sparks, sundering upward through ragged illusion, the succubus halved groin/shoulder...his length rages balefire, ashing cloying ichor. A pause.
Jill's muzzlebrake strobes ankh as a "bouncer" looms, yellow talons ponderously swirling air Weirding Way vacated. HR glints punching center mass, falling to its knees Pedro takes the head.
A cannibalistic lair, getting sloppy, dripping corruption from a vulture's wound, incapable of the genus' temperamental vanity. feeding inward, too few, one over the door, the bouncer, a couple ghastly thralls run through and whipped apart. Jill's beta mag only a third empty, Pedro grumbles in hunger.
queen?
flex the sensors, spectrum strobe.
porcelain and patten leather rhythmically languidly spiraling out of the lee of radiation, near the ceiling above stage 3. Vagina Dentata slimes the pole, drooling at my pheromones, silver ziggurat teeth sparking on the brass. Too perfect.
haven't the patience for this leprotic weasel's spectacle, my gift flays the glammer. self consciousness skitters through her used up visage, as we both know we could have avoided this bog of circumstance.
she tucks into the pole, swimming wall start, flinging the rotten honey pot up over end into the direction of Jill's grenade. aluminum encased Boson antimatter easily compromised by knashing rage. Purest of Lights transfixing from coxcyx to cervical curve, incandescent. the first honest white toothy grin since the start of the Bad Nights cast in rictus...pixelated to ash.
...
some when, on knees and hands, tattered, cold, stained in evidence of various lives. lamenting odds that are the last sick joke I'll know. out of reasons and honor to raise the brow...
a memory
the last smile of a burning stripper will save the universes.
alone
Tumbling through the tumultuous patches of the Continuity: dissolutions, land mines, kitten sacrifice. A well dressed photo negative of our greatest horrors and ecstasies. It leaves ones' face slack, eyes too steady, laugh too maniacal...
Still, epic patterns of collected stardust aid the compulsion to keep poachers bayed, intubate last gasps of the desperate humanity alarm clock...bellow fading ember. A clit, honey tunnel, ovaries, and sucklers. I heard Him tell the reasoning behind the clitoris, it's the best joke in the universe.
All binary reproductive sentient organisms sell sex, humans exclusively stigmatize the commerce.
Stripper interaction can be the most honest and linear exchange man and woman execute. An independent contractor, her success is exclusively dependent on customer service.
lawyers...bone sawyers...used car salesmen...repellent yet employed. sales, jiujitsu, empath, provocateur, tna, gymnast...selling pussy is easy, the illusion takes a matador.
Strippers and strigoi are peas and carrots. Most won't tell anyone who cares when he goes. Strigoi live by getting close. Can't be anybody; unemployed, no nuclear family, broken mean cuss'. reported after skipping rent and parole appointments.
Graymalkin recognized the pattern in missing person reports 2.5 seconds after their 23ish feed and warms the G6.
starts with one dancer, crushed by nauseating history, hellish current, and future best avoided. plodding along on speedballs and oxys. C day squad, scuzzy club cooch shaking a reprieve.
nights turning rancid tricks (nqns) on an avocado couch,
stained cum (and her occasional shameful arousal) crusty paisley.
doesn't clean up before tieing off, shoots up, rolls over, and he is there, soft shoeing on the coffee table. Ba‘al Azabab, Abaddon, The Light Bringer...with a Promise.
Successful nests stink for miles, polluting the ether-mana-fey whathaveyou, puss soaked maggots ecstatic in Gaia's cunt. most animals know to not shit-eat-breed in the same place. parking lot cameras see Pedro, Jill, and I coming.
 |
| Pedros' of a comet crashing near a duergar raiding camp, dwoemer runes etched by the basest metal weavers |
 |
| Jills' spitting Ares Dynamics .223 HR (His Righteousness) rounds, but she's cheap and disposable |
Jill's muzzlebrake strobes ankh as a "bouncer" looms, yellow talons ponderously swirling air Weirding Way vacated. HR glints punching center mass, falling to its knees Pedro takes the head.
A cannibalistic lair, getting sloppy, dripping corruption from a vulture's wound, incapable of the genus' temperamental vanity. feeding inward, too few, one over the door, the bouncer, a couple ghastly thralls run through and whipped apart. Jill's beta mag only a third empty, Pedro grumbles in hunger.
queen?
flex the sensors, spectrum strobe.
porcelain and patten leather rhythmically languidly spiraling out of the lee of radiation, near the ceiling above stage 3. Vagina Dentata slimes the pole, drooling at my pheromones, silver ziggurat teeth sparking on the brass. Too perfect.
haven't the patience for this leprotic weasel's spectacle, my gift flays the glammer. self consciousness skitters through her used up visage, as we both know we could have avoided this bog of circumstance.
she tucks into the pole, swimming wall start, flinging the rotten honey pot up over end into the direction of Jill's grenade. aluminum encased Boson antimatter easily compromised by knashing rage. Purest of Lights transfixing from coxcyx to cervical curve, incandescent. the first honest white toothy grin since the start of the Bad Nights cast in rictus...pixelated to ash.
...
some when, on knees and hands, tattered, cold, stained in evidence of various lives. lamenting odds that are the last sick joke I'll know. out of reasons and honor to raise the brow...
a memory
the last smile of a burning stripper will save the universes.
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