Dis 22, 2014
The rolling pumpkin carting up most of the credit. Props to the financier, the bought distance obscuring the dancer. White the stocking over bum knee, the powder also, on the vein side of her arm. Then the gloat turns his back to the circle. Your back, to me because I’m yours. How to throw away a body having / gone through so much going through. Had to touch the molave with an entire family. Which means they swing a few more until the strut is quit. Smile proscenium. Point is—dear omni-skilled, twig-like wrist—to hoop that rope off the maddened neck.