He Took The Trowel And Brick-Paste Away From Her, And He Let His Eyes Pick Up Where She Left Off.
They went on down the street (limped) -- carried black bags.
One.
Chic.
Sick.
Spree!
"Join a support group," she said under the paint-stains and wrecked necks, marble millionaire faces dripping in the rain.
Posted by
dean at 04:55 PM