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Written by CapnIncredible
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Tuesday, 26 July 2005 |
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In A Sentence:
For you do not understand these passions I am feeling.
Analysis:
Hello my gentle swans and welcome to the gentle tugging of my heart strings. Perhaps you can understand the depths of these rivers flowing through my mind. This calm wells up inside of my mind until it is a burning torrent of spices, the spices I pick from life's chili pepper plantation and grind up into a fine picante which makes a very delicious dipping sauce for the corn chips of love. But there is more to la tortura than the Mexican firecracker you see standing before you. The boys now they look at me and all they shall see is so much so very sexy staring at them through these eyes. But throughout my life I have been very much depressed, my lovers. For as a child my tears, they flowed from all I was to feel, and I was feeling so very much. For feeling is passion. And passion is to feel. And I am passion. Now I am off to dance, dance the warm August night away and wash its warmth down with the wine of passion. For passion is my taco. And my taco, it is eaten.
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