i am utterly stuck with words and grieving the loss of some personal freedom. i'm feeding on a strange new fuel, biting anger. hatred.
me: i need my mojo back, need to crow again. need more cock in my doodle-doo...not literally though.
xx: snorting laughter
me: literally there will be no real cock, synthetic cocks only. my doodle-doo is just fine with that, thank you.
marquette woods, sands, waters, stars, air in 15 days.