Profligates in Honor

O
divest yourself
of this.
And shed yourself
of pancakes
and never peal
again. Never, ever peal.

And open the mind's ass
to the profligation of known
antelopes.

If you know me, and I know you,
then we both know what hatred
means. It's a story as old as time
itself. It's a story told, of bold, and
how.

. . . strange thing is, no one knows how it happened," she said. "He just up and walked out one day. He never came back, never sent word. He just left."
"That is weird," Linda said. "It's just sick how some people can detach themselves. Sick!"

So, the detachment of a head, or a finger,
or a luscious and brutal cock is really no
different than the loss of a memory, or a
drop of your gall.

How embarrassing it must
be to know how you measure up within yourself!