Slipping a pill in somebodys drink might be fun, but it might also be mean. Somehow, no one ever did it to me. Doese that mean I’m not pretty enough? Everybody just drifts along…
I love the slip in my new cowash conditioner. I hate the fact slip into lust when I meet someone im seriously attracted to. I want to slip into an idealistic fantasy. I enjoy how life is when I create the perfect script in my life. I wore a slip under mymaxie dress cause it was see thru. I have to be careful not to slip on the ice patches outside my townhouse.
One slip, it’s easy, a word, a thought, a drag, a drink, you think, it’s so easy to change everything forever, and if you’re still alive afterward it could be so hard, unless your affirmative action or destruction is your resurrection, your new foothold, your new view to lucid, unfettered, smashed glass territory capable of being redefined by an uncolonized mind, and will yours be? and can you be? and the beat goes on forever and ever, all the generations with the same questions and confines to be answered and broken out of or not, or not, or not, tick tock
I slip into something more comfortable – my own thoughts. Far from the hustle and bustle of the city, of normal life, of typicality. Here, in the in-between, I can be wholly myself and have only myself for company.
He pulled the slip of the dock as the captain called for the sails to be let down. Running on board he kicked the gangway off the side of the ship. They were underway. The wind was in his hair, the salt in his lungs. He was a sailor.
Slipping a pill in somebodys drink might be fun, but it might also be mean. Somehow, no one ever did it to me. Doese that mean I’m not pretty enough? Everybody just drifts along…
oh shit oh shit you were a banana peel in our cartoon
network romance cat and mouse/ batman and robin now im on the
floor
I love the slip in my new cowash conditioner. I hate the fact slip into lust when I meet someone im seriously attracted to. I want to slip into an idealistic fantasy. I enjoy how life is when I create the perfect script in my life. I wore a slip under mymaxie dress cause it was see thru. I have to be careful not to slip on the ice patches outside my townhouse.
One slip, it’s easy, a word, a thought, a drag, a drink, you think, it’s so easy to change everything forever, and if you’re still alive afterward it could be so hard, unless your affirmative action or destruction is your resurrection, your new foothold, your new view to lucid, unfettered, smashed glass territory capable of being redefined by an uncolonized mind, and will yours be? and can you be? and the beat goes on forever and ever, all the generations with the same questions and confines to be answered and broken out of or not, or not, or not, tick tock
I slip into something more comfortable – my own thoughts. Far from the hustle and bustle of the city, of normal life, of typicality. Here, in the in-between, I can be wholly myself and have only myself for company.
He pulled the slip of the dock as the captain called for the sails to be let down. Running on board he kicked the gangway off the side of the ship. They were underway. The wind was in his hair, the salt in his lungs. He was a sailor.