penultimatum's profile

The tangy, salty smell of beer and sweaty sex saturates our small spaces, with each kiss we celebrate obscenity and serendipity; how happy we are to have we are, on torso and hips and your breath on my tongue, hot and copper, over and over, and I'm not even a good... fuck. My rhythm slips and I'm only 6 inches, there's nothing to brag about. Sometimes I wonder if I have halitosis, or maybe I shouldn't have been circumcised, or I masturbate too much so it takes too long to orgasm. I always liv...

We'll call it art no matter what, goddammit, just bullshit it, in articles and internet, til the compliments whirl round our circle. Aesthetic laid to rest; its subtlety and grace will rot and we'll all stand at the funeral with properly somber protests and grim faces. It's all a fine point. But, I'm still trying to think up things to write that you don't already know. Because you know it. We all know it. It's in slow sighs, soft critics, the idea that all opinions are all equal, and dog-eare...

We'll call it art no matter what, goddammit, just bullshit it, in articles and internet, til the compliments whirl round our circle. Aesthetic laid to rest; its subtlety and grace will rot and we'll all stand at the funeral with properly somber protests and grim faces. It's all a fine point. But, I'm still trying to think up things to write that you don't already know. Because you know it. We all know it. It's in slow sighs, and dog-eared pages of old, old, books falling apart, and keeping vi...

Sitting in the cell I had a dream, of psuedopods, stretching forward, not feet but a close facsimile, the tendrils stretching between all the cities and vast spaces, cringing with the birth and stretch, slowly bleeding, slowly absorbing, the water, residue, nutrients and faces, moving, moving, moving, always moving. I am only one toenail's cell feeding, did you know you suckle on the nipple next to me? We have freedom in our stretching, freedom, purely defined, being pursuit of these nothing ...

Don't know where is where. Gotta find how to be be, how is is why could could where should should be. When was, was? Only a moment before we all saw a small child, breathless, foggy gasps a grey ethereal plume cresting forth to the open sky from snotty lips, cold breeze sticking to the neck like wet sand, while behind the ears a chill approaches. Sleep more, flickers of your life merely snapshots left in careless abandon. Chests swell or become stout, voices rise and lower, we sing songs in c...