"A Sense of Tokyo can get you in your sleep, attacking the klump of lung muscle not coated w cowboy french fry grease and pandowdy fritter walls. The Sense is a scent, a whiff of marooned boys all xibiting their whalebone necks, moss wrapped so nicely around their thin necks. Let it drag you to the floor and go thru your pockets, the hole in your jeans is so soft now, fingers filled w honey, Owens lil undies whacked up against the wall. If you can see itchy clearly then you may want to tear a piece of goldfish off the line for Khaya, she is a sainted pillow provider, worship is useless. Great to chat, now let's listen." |
