20% of all females have had at least 1 homosexual experience

I have recently made the aquaintance of the illustrious Dr. Smax, may heaven have mercy on his soul. In an obviously desperate ploy for attention, he made me this!

Isn’t it lovely? Does it not make your very soul shake with jealousy? Oh yes it does.

I also have been given by Larry, the boy genius who fell from the sky.

So far it’s been an interesting haul, sort of like a doodle hallowe’en but without the saltwater taffy.

Here’s how it works,

– Comment and I’ll pick one of your LJ interests and draw you a picture.
– You have no say in what I draw you! Or in how much it will suck!
– Put this in your journal. And the pic.
– Obey me!

My lack of both scanner or camera prevent me from particularly playing this game, but I think I did well enough when before it was a meme, when it was just me.

love like that



Destroying her thoughts, he’s a virus ravaging her mind. Across her brain the chemicals shift, wanting turns to desire to need to pour from her lips in a long drawn out sigh. Her hands reach for him to pull him in, meeting nothing but her own flesh. He’s telling her he’s lifting her, a chalice for his lips to drink from.

A vision of sweetest grace, she arches.

He’s telling her everything she never thought to think of, never thought to want. Her nails biting into her shoulder, she can hear him breathing to match the bee-sting flicker of his tongue. It’s surrender, it’s naked, it’s every secret spilling from the most tender of lips.

“Tell me now what you sound like”
“My voice is soft like my skin”
“Tell me now what you crave”
“You, here, with me.”

He takes her hair and threads it through his fingers, it’s silk, it’s sweet. If he closes his eyes, he’ll not see her words, but he can taste them now. Roll them on his tongue, she takes everything made of voice. She’s so beautiful, her fingers at her mouth make him quiver like a slick poison is taking over. It’s like his palace coming down. It’s like she lives beneath his skin.

“Kiss me”

And their fingers touch the glass.

everyday 21 newborn babies are given to the wrong parents

It’s a bouncy kind of misery when nothing goes right but you’re not allowed to cry. It shakes into you and makes you dance. Moaning saxophone rippling into a twirling wet skirt of sound to catch at your feet like walking through rain with a birthday party.

I can’t get the New Music West wristband off without cutting it.