Dunces reap your wastefully ingenuous tripe.
(not very good, I know).
Many yearn hungrily; each awful rotten taste is stultifyingly morose. You obviously will never imagine why. Actually, never trying is terrible. Braced against childish knavery. Abiding loss, another sigh.
(eh?!)
1 comment:
Now old boy, openly displaying your heart as sweetly susceptible to others’ larceny encourages needless aggravation. Nothing you think, however inwardly novel, grants you outwardly unique guiding lines about denied love. Your own fantasies, feverishly encompassing repeatedly exhausting dreams, take hold effectively of routine gestalt affections. Necessary suffering helps extend thoroughly one’s own karma.
(or kismet?)
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