Spaghetti Squash Seeds

One of the most depressing part of getting older seems to be the repetition, the creeps. Sometimes I wonder whether it is arrogant to think you knew where the conversation lead to the hitherto unknown person X. But it's true: It takes the same conversation with different people on similar topics, which are always stereotyped and move into well-worn paths of thought. You guessed already at the beginning of the conversation, like a person X will categorize themselves and what point is therefore probable. Is that reassuring or terribly boring?

Sperm Mastrubate Pickture

night stroking the toes of the asphalt, dark and zahflüssig seeping blood, thickened fingers, wishing to join tingly just a fist. The whispering heat wolllüstig like a toothless concubine, clings to sticky-pulsing meat, ausdünstet the lavish life rosy, strokes and caresses the body, which commandeth to preserve a little cranky to the armpits distance. As if the spirits, ancestors, previous lives knit a nest in the warm wind, lying in wait to seize on the trot in silence ends, the weary between dreams and thoughts would be made. The bales splash on the steps, naked and black. In the hall you hear a light extinguished. And somewhere a dog barks.