Toe Paralysis

I like to believe those body movements of yours kick the back of my neck where the irritation canals are kept, and my sinking lips that keep the world astray stay pinned to Cobwebbed eyes pointed straight to the light of day.

He's got a gun to my brain and a cheap cassette of Janet Jackson's The Velvet Rope with fifty miles to its name. 

Creation is the ouverture.

L'antithese de mon amour pour toi

Est l'abilite de la laisser partir.

What are you saying.