I found this digging through boxes for stuff to throw out. Kept it on a whim, at least long enough to type up.
I'd clean for him I would but Cleaning, I'd hope for a little something back. I told him I told him once Telling, I'd hoped for something to fill me. But I cleaned for him as he'd asked, my husband. And here I am and nothing's changed.
This was also labeled “free ponies :) :) :)” and I only vaguely remember why.
The eroticism of oranges How seductive, Freakshows pondering A murder weapon. Secret clementine Tells of a third, dense. The first in somnambulant arms Of the second, citrus fancier. Live as normal, Death by paper.
Ode to Turn Signals
A steady white lights Stops, none goes; Though on blinking happy off Turns, informing. Click flashing click By turning on grants And behind, those praising Seeing, now know. So up or to down leftright Click, push and becomes.
Every time I fall, The ground tells me I'm in love. Be he the tamed? No, family sheep? Spades, four, And one white, domesticated, Was my favorite. He who could, he had Need in friends, Your better cream! Ice, you love got All need. And 'cause love is All low. And love is Places.
I love this song. What are you saying? You hate it. Any sense of melody is lost In chords Obscured by the weight of Tone. Harmony rules itself out. Think of the meaning, not just the music. The words are in Spanish. Does that matter? Spanish words in chords so thick, You have to peer through the fog of harmony for the light of melody. And on top, Cheap sound effects. I suppose I don't listen to it much. That's why I like it. I suppose you don't listen to it much. That's why you hate it.