May 26, 2010
this existential moment is brought to you by a few of my favorite things. like the dimples on the small of a woman's back, the way vanilla perfume smells on a stripper, the cold sweat on a pabst can, the feel of wet film, and the delicious taste of strawberry blond lips.
when you shake off a cloud of mental angst, there is always left a shiny surface that spins your wheel. the reward for hard work and mental struggle, is a limitless energy that only saturation can quench. its the hue of the soul that drips from the eyes and crawls up the skin of your inner thigh. somewhere in the sun is the saturation we both crave.
its the exploration of your sex that tastes just like a strawberry blond on warm summer day.