yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


everything is becoming so much more complicated and i want to type everything away, long words and run on sentences. giving orgasms to strangers that are convicts or just in juvenile or maybe it doesnt make a difference but i miss being good and sane. i want to feel better, stop my sockets from leaking fluids onto sport coats, worn by lovers, much Older lovers that know all sorts of things i dont. i feel sick, i dont know why. maybe its the less than angelic things i've been up to and worrying about blue lights in my rear view. the paranoia eats at me whenever something good occurs. is it me or is it you or is it us? i cant sleep over at your house and i cant smoke or drink without thinking i've caused you harm. i'm an awful mess of worry and ugly fret. please dont put me away forever.
d-land