(no subject)
The tought makes my stomach turn, no help due to the current sickness I carry. I often wonder why I indever down the roads that I do. Being I know no control, nor will I ever. The hands of time are the answers to destinys questions. Force it untill you get blue in the face, a smidge like that mental masturbation but there's no orgasm but a chaffed dick. I know there's sayings to be implied but I think above stated will stick, in the dumb.