08-31-02 - 12:57 am
ev'i syawla derdnow thaw ti dluow eb ekil ot epyt na yrtne sdrawkcab. gnieb tsomla niatrec enoon lliw ekat eht emit ot dear ti. i rednow tahw ti dluow eb ekil ot nurt ruoy efil,htob yllacisyph dna yllatnem dnuora sdrawkcab..would it be forward in a different direction? ro dluow ti eb a etelpmoc dr jekel mr hyde
there is a ghost, a spectar, a spook, a heavenly entity if you will, in my room. each night as the clock tolls on anytime between 3 o clock AM and 430 AM, a Darth Vader bank that contains batteries at least 5 years old will come alive. His lightsaber glows red on the highest shelf i could possibly manage in my room. A deep robotic pendalim like breathing insues. A squeaking, scratching sound tears into my ears as the gears and wheels struggle to make Darth slide back and forth on his platform. "But you are not a Jedi yet" and his lightsaber goes flying up skyward and the Imperial Death March then blares out, he then goes back to 'sleep'. This is only suppose to happen when a button on him is pushed or money is inserted, and as i said hes way way way above everything else, so thats all i can concur. The spirit of Darth Vader decided to haunt my room.
The way her breasts hold in those shirts with no bra. Perky and so very very soft. The perfect color hiding beneathe, enticing you more and more. Chronic thoughts of her thighs. Their curves, their strength, their texture. A body that intoxicates you into a lust acid trip. Your eyes glazing over at unending thoughts of discovering her body slowy. Piece by piece. Like a master criminal cracking open his first case. Delicately, anxiously, but masterfully. I want to feel you.
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