in the murk of the river styx i find an air pocket  it’s in the curl of my fetal heart im petrified to move  out of fear what will come. so i stay down there in the muck the gross disgust hoping the air wont run out. 

we fucked on a papasan ass in th dimple of th seat. it was hawt Really. lik being in a shell of texture & flesh but there wasnt any room for.

dick.

Pygo woke w/ an aching quiver Arrow cocked, ready for. A burning sensation the wound’s still fresh The Phantom of the Head, of that arrow, still clung to his innards He trusted not a movement from any direction The play unfolds in his mind. Pygo had sent out messages Responded: jokes, jeers, sincerest condolences He stood, naked Reflected in reflection in shameful glass ——Bathe :: Not you, whore of babylon, your sis She’s not a cum riddled slut. The water was hot like Pygo’s wound only less searing