Totally eclipsed and underneath everything that was. Time, and time again swept beneath and forgotten without thought. Conscious of decisions made, and even planned.
Glee in hindsight.
Envelope me in bandage of your angst. Tighten, excitable. Conclusive stimulation. And, if it helps, I will strum you a song on my ukulele. With and without, und for and against in black and white contest of marriage. Same or similar, comparably different. Guess of Prada; Sun of Moon.
It has been dark of late. Recent moon poops and rabbit holes of treacherous nature. The dimly lit square lay dormant for none hath crossed paths. Lucky. Or without luck? None have crossed path, so how can they know? How can they say. [!]
Dirty money intervenes, and I'm drowned in glory. Beautiful sex embellished. Calm, kind of cold and hungry for music and movement sex. Give love and utter sensual, tasted victory and lick your moneys. Red tulip on lips of moisture and slippery attributes. Drums, drums, drums. Could it be alone and sex in one. Body upon movement, being paid. Paid for the movement and the money sex. Financial benefits where sex doesn't play, and music is doing it. Hastily. Backing away of beauty, and then some.
