As a moral brutal being, I wolf-cave-behavior train-hard-enough in order to align all wrongdoing of my concern, I began biting before licking.
Niceness as in sweetness
“the state or quality of having a pleasant or agreeable manner in socializing with others”
Drafting is crucial, before a serious documentary of African homicides gold rushing Nordic ethicists claimed to clean water for a thick energy-dense liquid improper for bathing, thick enough to seize a textured bite for the thirsty Trumps.
Oh your Highness, a plastic surgery so I won’t have to see your youth-crumble-apple-strudel without an early warning of long nose wrinkles?
Some things are untouchable, like this white matter, I am sitting on, my toilet as an ocean bird, I do as I please, and for you, I wish Manhatten after rain ponds to supply enough mirrors for you to visualize bathing in your improper ingredients, led to an artificially dry warm Campary lonely, on plastic rocks and interested friends in your new nose, without noticing the false in eating at midnight tea salon cake without the flavors of homemade friends.
I am terribly soaked and wet, left outside but somehow liberated to merge minutes with intrinsic wishes to breathe clean air and float in awe under crashing bridges.
