Against my better judgment I feel certain that somewhere very near here-the first house down the road, maybe-there's a good poet dying, but also somewhere very near here somebody's having a hilarious pint of pus taken from her lovely young body, and I can't be running back and forth forever between grief and high delight.
Comments will not be approved to be posted if they are SPAM, abusive, off-topic, use profanity, contain a personal attack, or promote hate of any kind.