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Wednesday 25th March 2009.

Dawn inches over the high rise,my eyes trade in the fusion of light,my mind still worries about the nights demons,whom i have happily flushed from my body the stream of laughing gargoyles left reluctantly as they always do.I am now quite content to sit under this fan feel the warm air cover my skin in blanket bubbled air pockets.
I am alone...the young desirable flesh i sleep, with oh the dream,as i change this scribble to shared room have all padded through the shower the flesh of cocks washed,the under arms sprayed with whatever.The door down the stairs,past the massed piles of left behind back packers reading habits quiver as each step takes them to the door out into the world.They are bee's, worker bee's, around the table at night their sting of worries about the world economical climate is much on their minds.
The flesh of theirs is on mine, let me hope both are fed and reality is more on their side for i too have flitted with such thoughts down the track of time.The sun is creeping, now beginning to concentrate above the roof tops.My day is before me a treasure trove should i dance along it's coarse in the wild side or sit contently in the Chinese gardens on the far side of the island ponder the moment i can actually take time to do such before the wildness of England is all to soon upon my back and not the wildness of pulling on stockings blowing dry nail varnish but the heavy hand of laws, rules, oh to be obeyed by those that wish did i say wish perhaps i mean own, for they are the jokers and not us.

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bichoose
bichoose

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