Rigiro due bottoni, piccoli e bianchi, tra l'indice e il pollice della sinistra.
Mentre l'acustica mi entra. un po' acida, ma molto morbida.
Felpa nera, camicia bianca. colletto strano.
Quissù, sperduto e ho sì sonno,
ma anche il giusto disordine di chi non ne ha più voglia di non essere chi.
Rigiro i bottoni, e vorrei strapparli tutti.
Ed eliminare le cerniere e devastare i vestiti e mostrare il corpo.
Lo accolga chi...chi vuole. Chi vuole sapere che sapore ha, chi.
I could describe it perfectly, scars, you open up to release fragrances, and among other matters, and vapors, things to hot bath room
I tell you, to you I say: Look it's true. Look at me, I drew me so many times to get a single picture, deleting the rest and added other features,
Look at the sheet is white, is ready. Only for my hand now.
counts at the end of the muscle fibers remained, those avalanches, the uppercut, the shutters of the house, closed, not weakened.
think, but not in the crystals, not in the glass, just not me I see no more wall of lies.
Elsewhere.
and change song while listening to them, and remember all the words are good to play it, and are good to me the words.
If you use the razor on my pubes, just above my State by female sensitive enough to know you will be relieved of any embarrassment and sink into the feeling that I needed. I'll be able to post a presence
So, all that I can. Thanks for spying on me and poking at duty.
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