Where Are Gloryholes In Dallas

South - Act 2


There are flies everywhere, and I think of the crap on it which are surely ask, so I try not to let them touch me. They come fuck the sound of their wings in my ears, the sound sucks. But forcing a one time or another one of those old larva raises its legs and his trunk on my white skin, it eats my dead skin, and all things that are invisible on my skin, she fed them. Or she just wants me to piss off. This fly with dust crap. And I said that made the flies are vital, they are a household that eludes us. The blonde redhead I put through the high volume on my computer to reduce noise steal their epilepsy. I look at the blue sky that envelops a barren hill in the open window and flies are the most and I only hear the sounds of teeming life in the garden all around. At that hour of the morning Cicadas do not do hear it without the sun disappear, the sun, they are nothing. This is what gives them their living movement. "Movement for Life" sounds very cult, very new age.
Just something simple and less like that, so simple that I never paid more attention. And then disappears. It is alive but there is no movement that goes with it.
So we must find that thing that prevents it from disappearing, a friend, a lover, a love, something, something, someone. But we do not want to show that we need anything to others, be weak in the sense that is more animal. For what has the fear of being eaten by the beast that is felt when All the lights are out, prowling for you swallow when she can. I feel we do not see with our eyes as a child, when one accepts the monsters of this kind. Or maybe she just has to bite, dog bites by what he feels fear, and he bites by what he is afraid.
And the beast grew up with us, grown, matured, fatigue.
This beast is probably fear. My legs
naked in the grass, I feel and I see the sun and I see colors and I see the ants in Indian tail, wondering what their life and I feel the heat and I do not want to be. I am the greatest children's garden flies. Shit is only the of a cycle that sustains life.
So I must say to all the people I love not to kill himself.
All this must be something I could call realistic optimism. And I regret to say such a term, for what it sounds masturbatory.
I reread what I write and I do not.
I want to take a Doliprane without a headache to see what it does.