See now I am stuck. I always seem to find a way to get myself in a morbid twist of reality. I meet this lady and we click but the thing is she is moving. And this would happen because that is just the way it should be. Who has a right to decide what is supposed to happen? I mean sure, I could bitch and find a way to get her mad at me so it's easier, but I won't. I guess in a way my outter shell is tough but inside I am a silly boy looking for the same thing everyone else is. A peace of mind and a solid soul to call mine. Although I think sometimes God smites me out of spite for digging to deep into his reality but fuck him. I never asked to be born and never asked to feel the comfort of love. I assume just stray and smell and kiss and lick. It makes things easier. Oh and trust me this story is way deeper than you would know. I'm about to leave the house to get some pot and thought that I would dwell on this for a second. And people will probably read half this and rate it a 10 and give me some nice words. =] Thank you but I rather you read my solid real stuff. This is invisiable and is just an excuse to write honestly. Up rise is my way of thinking and Velvet is my lust. I hate niggers. LordTool
