|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Well, to start off. Those of you just looking for someone to just sit there and toy with a little bit, jog on. I have little time for these idiotic shenanigans. Also, if you cannot spend the extra second and a half to spell at 'you' as opposed to 'u' I will be forced to boil you. Don't tempt me, I might just do it. *insert a dramatic evil laugh*
NOW! Apart from idiotic formalities, I know little to say about myself. So you may just have to ask, sorry my lovelies, but I just suck at these things. So ask what you like, and I'll tell, thank you.
PS: If you stop by my profile and don't message me, or give me some sort of acknowledgement here, I will message you with a "What the fuck?" kind of message, so if you take the time to look at my profile, might as well message while you're at it, right?
PSS: I swear to god if I get another fucking stuck-up bitch on here that's too damn lazy to get a job, and just wants to take the easy way and suck the life out of people; I am going to go apeshit. I'm not trying to dog on Financial Domination, in any way. You people are okay. It's just the retards who are just like "I demand tribute for my services," and then sit there and do absolutely nothing in return because they're too damn lazy to work for themselves!
PSSS: If I get another guy who just wants a 10-second powerplay out of me, fuck off! I've gotten 4 just this week. I am getting so tired of retards.
PSSSS: If you have your profile pic as you just standing there flipping someone off, do us all a favour and jump off a bridge. Just because you're flipping off the world trying to be 'rebellious' does not mean you're a domme.' It just means you're plain stupid. Take 10 seconds to try and be a LITTLE original. Thank you!
PSSSSS: Now that all the unpleasantry is done, feel free to speak, thanks for reading guys!
One more thing, if you read 50 Shades of Grey and did not lose most of your braincells and think that that's how this kind of thing runs, just keep moving, otherwise I might harpoon you with a small fork. ^^
With all of that said, as you noticed, I am a very strong, outspoken, opinionated boy. I'm a mustang-hearted poet, musician, and chef, simply put, looking for the person who might be able to take out some more of the vanilla in my life.
|
|
|
|
|
The torrential downpour of such afflictions, seems to be the latest in a cavalcade of differential agonies. Tossing, turning nightmares roll into one, of all of the thoughts and dreams of the betterment of whatever life was supposed to be, come to a crash and once again hold account. Beyond the contemplation of hellish ruin, the manic harbingers tend to speak once more. “Hear us now,” they say, “For once one is dashed with such a matter of listlessness, and sloth, their slights, imagined, never before once forgiven. Testify with the illness of wickedness, holding the abiding chalice of demise in your grasp, ever-overflowing.”
The further denomination of the nurtured operate, tends to be such a thing. The coordinated attack of such beings, falling once again on the shoulders of the offense. Collision with the innocent blood often victimizes the plaintiff, justifying the horror within their own blood.
Porous is the one who carries these weights, desolate and barren in nature, climbing the statuses of wicked, finding no solace within the crimes of ethic. Forethought being absent, the one in question denies faith, folly, or fortune. All of which sum up to the lasting nightmarish, bastardization in which is lived. |
|
|
|
|
The lifetime negligence, of shear and hapless magnitude, speaks anew. Heralding a new age of forsworn sorrow. Freedom, once again an illusion, when the black choices awaiting making, seem to be coming all too quickly. So many voices, so many souls, all screaming out at once of what is right, and what is wrong, pulling in one direction or another, with no leeway for rest—when the indecision itself, being the worst enemy, to say the least.
Kindly awaiting primary implosion, the maker weighs the intangible rhetoric. Likely causing the once found source of their own demise. Kinsmen, friends, colleagues, and comrades, feeling so abandoned, that once again, reach out to find ground again. Yet in the kind shadow lies the bastardization of such a thing, machine-gun reminder of what must be done.
All forethought unanimously dashed, adjusted to what is now. Orienting the horrendous nature, funneling the pain and sorrow, of the inertial plane. Hopelessly, helplessly, awaiting salvation, resurrection, in a better word, the dead lie back once again, to scream their own word. |
|
|
|
|
Well. As it may seem, people so far have been nothing but rude to me. This is very discouraging, and very irritating. I mean how hard is it to have a decent, intelligent conversation? |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
| Age: 26 |
| Lafayette,
Louisiana |
|
|
|
| |
