(no subject)
...been around the bend...where the silent stay frozen with compromising wills...treading so soft...and decency is no longer a virtue...love was once our mothers bossom...but soon the nipple will grow foul between our lips...aroused and erect we taste our mothers rotten breast...kiss her neck...breathe her filth...with one hand over her mouth and another up her skirt...she will learn the ways of love...the love of a father...our heavenly father...
