you are...
an extremely dangerous person that does not care about me at all with a serious textbook knowledge of handling and controlling my compliance through the use of just simply beautiful tricks, some more unpalatable than others, and with no shame in wrenching them against me for your own tickled ends.
in contrast to your own majestic and cynically depressed and jaded worldview- my own. I am a shifting hyperspatial patch of shade with the soul of a scared little boy adrift in the worst parts of a cold word that does not give a shit at all, perfumed. Your lack of concern is charming only that in that it reflects your distant humanity.
anon, you are also in shades the one great true love of my life- having never met you, never ever will, and a in some ways mystical- a friend without borders and boundaries that shares the shadow hollow of my soul in my own endless fountain of youth, a rain of tears yes, but for all times you made my tears fall in joy, I am eternally uh, you know, fond or whatever.
i will always love you, and there is no me without you, but there is you without me, and i understand, i understand; it's somewhere between pillowtalk and just business as usual, right? There is nothing at all you wouldn't do for money. There is, in my case, only one thing i wouldn't do for money: tell you what that one thing was.
I will take my scrapbook heart into heaven, and I will sing your name to the angels. Other than this, there are no guarantees.
What do the big men do it for? Gambling? Crack? High dollar hookers that cum when you fucking look at them cross-eyed? They do it for nothing, and receive the whole universe as their reward. I only met one, and get this: the fucker was homeless.
Wealth beyond wealth and what can you actually really get out of anything? Addicted to a cell phone slot machine and of course, sports gambling.
Foul or fair, you know, I am the only real daddy that'll walk the line.