I select my surgical steel scalpels with the skill of slices slid astray. I breathe hungrily on pale moon skin. Inadequacies laid bare against the illumination of the sterile table. I scratch my Adam's Apple to push down the velvet black giggles that lurch through my throat.
I envision so many delicate scars across this chaste canvas of vicissitude.
My razors are ready to receive pieces of her peace.
10:50 p.m. - 2015-02-25
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
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Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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