“She wants to give it, oh
she wants to give it..
She wants to give, ohhh”
Harms could resist the temptation to go all in, full house.
He is standing patiently as a disciplined butler: Undressed, blindfolded by his bandana since she wanted to ensure her sexual safety and on top of that tied his arms, now he can only sing, but he sings into the torture with a purifying-like behavior of inviting the devil.
Playing the only song he has on the MP3 player software of this futuristic-like first smartphone from early Millenia.
“But promise to me that,
Whatever we say..
Whatever we do……
Keep it in the closet!”
J.D. Harms seemed to impatiently beatbox through short intervals of breath as his pants revealed some curious vividness to be into the dangerous drill, almost as he wishes to be caught by passersby from the opposite sex.
A crashing course to be practicing my poetry, he moaned to himself deep inside his expanding lungs from the excruciating breathing deprivation exercise.
His knees started to shake from the extensive waiting, not so sure anymore of this unknown ordeal, it became quiet for longer periods of time, every single…
