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06-01-2017, 06:17 PM
Posts: 80,113
Threads: 4,861
Joined: May 2016
I want all the books of all the hot dudes who ever lived.
I mean... all the super old/dead ones.
Posts: 80,113
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I want to lay in bed and pleasure myself whilst reading books written by old/dead hot dudes.
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(06-01-2017, 06:36 PM)Trix Wrote: I want to lay in bed and pleasure myself whilst reading books written by old/dead hot dudes.
thats the sickest shit i have read in a long time , along with your cherries squirting blood ,wtf
that is one beautiful perverse mind you got trix
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I presume, perhaps erroneously, that were you are residing it is nowhere near morning time. However, it so happens to be past midnight in Hibernia and as such I ough to wish you a good morning.
Considering your penultimate post, I wish to divert your attention to the writings, mien and appearance of the romance poets which I personally find...lovely.
Thomas Chatterton;
https://laurenleto.files.wordpress.com/2...erton.jpeg
Percy Bysshe Shelley;
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/c..._Clint.jpg
Lord Byron;
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/c...282%29.jpg
I hope you find something satisfactory in the archaic albeit well-proportioned and imposing appearance of these fine literary Titans.
Ta da Miss Malone.
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Oh my damn Maitiu, you are my kinda guy...
I'm so blessed to have such amazing people to direct my attention toward strange and glorious wonders I previously had no idea even existed!
Those poets...
My heart skips a beat.
They call it a condition...
I call it romance.
I shall find and touch myself to the musings of these hot, dead men.
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Let me ameliorate your experience then by enlightening the nature of young Chattertons' demise, for romance and drama are kindred subjects.
One day Chatterton was absorbed in thought while walking alongside St. Pancras Churchyard. Taking no notice of an open grave, newly dug in his path, he tumbled into it. His walking companion helped Chatterton out and told him in a facetious manner, that he was happy in assisting at the resurrection of genius. Chatterton's apparent reply was: "My dear friend, I have been at war with the grave for some time now." Chatterton commited suicide three days later. He retired for the last time to his attic carrying with him the arsenic which he drank, after tearing into fragments the literary remains at hand. He was only 17 years old.
I hope we both act as purveyors of strange and glorious facts to one another in the future. It would be my pleasure to be your freak dilettante of arcane matters Miss Malone.
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SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
Wow, just wow.
I need to post a thread of all my poems.
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Do it!
That is, post your poetry.
Immediately if not sooner.
"In books unread,
we lie between
their pages.
As they turn us to lovers,
like the season's changes."
