Budda smile yet. And I still got all to do it.

Why do You crinkle like this? Why do You deed these all deeds? I'm ready even to please, standin' at knees, to cut, to slit this. To stop to snub any breeze of any moralist things 'nside Me. I'm not with this! I rot of this! I've got with this too much enough to love after so filthiness! Buildin' this in rhymes, You make no feels but spite. These wild lips that rhymes sneak to Me even in dreams, at least! To be continued.
523 10 лет