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Dear Smooth Cigarette;
Killer, why don't you ever take the trash out on time? This is
as white as several diseases in one.
Dear Renee's Orange Glass Roses;
I wouldn't think fingerprints to spread you open like that! Are
you a boat to sunset pupils as slow heartbeats regurgitudinal blessings
of where fingers hurt pursed in you? Where one could tunnel down
to pollen docks, there's smoothed afraidness in dropping you, afearedness
of how fragile, and Bam! you putty unlikely. I strip you across
my palm to weight sinking fins of delicious separation. The color
is always warm warm called her sibyl by the noxious tardying. I
could snap and you would cut me to blunders.
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