Ssself:
So, you’re a sick little girl, eh? Think you’ve been broken? Well, when you get to have has many scars as I do, understand that any suffering will molt itself completely from your calloused, broken skin.. Snakes are vulnerable when their vibrant patterns- the diamond back rattle snake: like a vintage disco shirt, bold paisley stretched across a young woman’s blooming breasts; begin to stretch and fade. Its then though, you realize this stop was well needed, a time to let go of everything that once inhibited you while sober and conscious. It feels good to pick off those remaining dermis flakes, still clinging onto the old you, the you that no one liked. Get that last one, DNA attainment isn’t a deciding factor, the flicks of emotion pressing against the naturally enunciated lining on your soft, unspoken lips will deteriorate when this earth is moist and ready, along with the rest of your insecure self. New, tight confidence suffocating tender muscles. When you coil in anticipation; pseudo-anxiety fumes leak between your scales, compensating the lack of what would be there had you raced to the finish line-genuine fear, the predator is led under false pretenses and is oblivious to what his imminent actions would cause. Only a short breath away, his malicious intent sent chilling vibrations into the innermost backbone you just grew and you bit off the man’s prick. Confidence tastes good, you sense the air with forked hissing around the wounded thing, and you decide that you're going to swallow his, whole.
So, you’re a sick little girl, eh? Think you’ve been broken? Well, when you get to have has many scars as I do, understand that any suffering will molt itself completely from your calloused, broken skin.. Snakes are vulnerable when their vibrant patterns- the diamond back rattle snake: like a vintage disco shirt, bold paisley stretched across a young woman’s blooming breasts; begin to stretch and fade. Its then though, you realize this stop was well needed, a time to let go of everything that once inhibited you while sober and conscious. It feels good to pick off those remaining dermis flakes, still clinging onto the old you, the you that no one liked. Get that last one, DNA attainment isn’t a deciding factor, the flicks of emotion pressing against the naturally enunciated lining on your soft, unspoken lips will deteriorate when this earth is moist and ready, along with the rest of your insecure self. New, tight confidence suffocating tender muscles. When you coil in anticipation; pseudo-anxiety fumes leak between your scales, compensating the lack of what would be there had you raced to the finish line-genuine fear, the predator is led under false pretenses and is oblivious to what his imminent actions would cause. Only a short breath away, his malicious intent sent chilling vibrations into the innermost backbone you just grew and you bit off the man’s prick. Confidence tastes good, you sense the air with forked hissing around the wounded thing, and you decide that you're going to swallow his, whole.
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