though plain and simple's what you said you'd like again your pimpled tongue has gone on strike apparently the raw and open breast beats quietly if law is your behest "just be yourself" on penalty of chill well there is self but now more deftly killed but blame is game and i've no heart for play i'm lame a shame this tart will go away whatever insecurities you've lain to rest in my obscurity and pain they've cured penile irrelevance, my tears why maybe you can bottle them like beers and set them on a shelf as you did me the self demanded but dishonestly