And yet it is very Axl Rose of me.
So that’s something.
A collection of stories, photo captions, and shoddy poetry
And yet it is very Axl Rose of me.
So that’s something.
Romance always draws a crowd.
Kinda counting on it.
I’ll wave goodbye as you disappear.
Even when you tell him he’s unwelcome, he’s still more at home in your body than you’ve ever been.
I’m not into the fuckpig thing. If I’ve got to make a chick less attractive, I’d prefer to do so through the judicious application of my precious bodily fluids or the aggressive application of the back of my hand. Foam rubber noses just don’t do it for me. But the fun thing about my kink is that I don’t need to share your half-witted, pathetic little fixations to enjoy the effect they have on you. Just having a ringside seat to your emotional self-flagellation is delight enough for me.
It takes all kinds, I guess is what I’m saying.
Hm. How about no to both?
It’s handy, knowing you don’t have to hurt her to make her lose control.
Go through your collection of photos, and count how many times you’ve been photographed pointlessly flipping off the camera.
Multiply that number by ten, and you will have the approximate number of times I’d like to slap you for being such a clichéd piece of trash.