Hold down the block.

[big baby]

i like the way you write and im glad you are having sex again mister certain boy, you coming to this site is aportal in which we connect to a higher degree of virtualization in d-minor with the concept of materializing the spewing of thought provoking analysis provided by the construct of digital age, brewing a physical plane. I can't touch you, with my fingers in space, typing a blip on a page, like radar. It ain't far from your best, but you invaded a space where you rarely go. Eyes barely low, drunk from the cupboard you broke the wine a couple months ago. Loveless, loathing, abroad and brooding, lawless, soothing, heart is hootin'. God, you're ruthless, but not, you're clueless. You stop and do this, with an open heart, and knew it wasn't what you wanted it to be from the start. You're decent, certain, and decents' perfect. That's not to say you don't have things to brush up on, you're a painting untouched, unphased, and it sucks. Cause a canvass is an atlas for your to map your emotions, you've splashed a trinkle of acid paint on it, though it's, barely burning, evading from turning the page and discerning other things you have learned through your journalist journey. A disservice to you, would not be giving a rhyming unfurling bunch of lines I'm just blurting onto this forum. You're for yourself and other people, you're for em'. Most confuse you for boring, cause they can't diffuse the emporium you come through when you wrote em'. The way you use words to tell a story, is a hellish, gory war scene, enhanced by a cleverly woven word-ings, you chose for the specific set of sordid; illicit mesh of touring. If I had any critique of your finishing peaks, is that you're more of a literate preacher and don't venture in the cresty demeanor of r-rated saw plays, or sexual-predator, explicit material. You're getting there, debonair. With a pinch of extra flare, you could become an exceptional heir and could possibly be the best, in here. I liked it.