trampette

sigh...painting a porch in Boston....sigh, I still have to wait 2.5 weeks till I am back in Siena....sigh....& my love....I'm gonna rape him as soon as I see him in Fiumicino, or wait till I am sore, 3 hours from home....ah, sigh, count all them days in May....

If one masturbates in an airplane's bathroom, does that fit into the mile high club...just wondering....

at times this stuff just bores me to torn little bits... some montepulciano red and I feel a tad more inclined to accept such large amounts of silly content...all those awkward yet fashionable spots for people to mingle online...how they bore me to crumbs really they do and I gave them a go...at times I prefer to feel that my bones are made of glass...
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let me in....these spiced, musty tendrils of your thoughts have wound me up quite nicely....

i have been painting all day...a nice vermiglione bunny, a ochre and gold sky, with eyes that are perfectly round and coal black with a brown heart drawn in one of them...

i'm in heat like the bunnies, i chew quickly what is laid before me on the ground...i quiver...
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i tickled the shifts, fingers strained...no curves to mention, attempting not to misbehave, keeping the skin of my lips pulled tight within the clench of my two front teeth. He keeps on directing, i keep up with the velocity, up then down, while pushing inward into his engine. His voice then hushes...i feel a hand glide skywards from my bent knee...love really is full of...
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Let's see...hmmm,
..... today I bought my first piggybank, imagine that. No it really isn't a piggy, it's more of a whale of a bunny. But I shall feed it more than centesimi, i'll pop in the additional 20euro or so, every so often. Since I don't keep any of my money in a bank, it's all under my mattress or some odd spot or...
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if i could have just one splinter of a second.....i would rupture my wee heart for you

but then what would it matter, as long as the breathing keeps on ticking....i should find myself just being completely fine.

my head commands my dry fingers to tap, tap, tap out this translation...that needs to be done by next monday the 13th. Italian to english, smoother for...
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i'm prostituting my mind.....

but on the belly side of my life.... blue roses, petals of ocean water fill my little studio, i'm tailoring that dollbaby's hair, just like sheep fur, then resting that soft little head on my pillow.
Incubo: found a skull, with a raw, unharvested brain, then wailed a bit, waking up Fede beside me...

~ honey/miele ~

much too hazy.....much too foggy...yet it seems just about right.... it'll do for now

i' ve been a clandestine sort of gilr for the past 2 months or so...and i've not missed this place not even one wink of a miss.
I've been away...at home in my Quito. The year always culminates in that final year end trip to my birthland. My heart requires such a return. I listen to my Abuelita, who is 96, recount her days making...
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one of the patron saints of Siena, Ansanus. Considered the baptizer, was beheaded in 304. His memorial falls on my birthday as well. I am relieved by this....it makes me fantasize.

I'm coming into this landscape of synchronicity.... where my dreams sort of lay clues, like breadcrumbs, all about my new hometown. Siena is spoiled in that way, bankers that stroll the streets, most surely...
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