So this I write, what I know…what is me…as painful as it is going to be… I look at the journal before me, the latest of many I have hidden in a ...hest. Only this one unlike all the others is empty of words, with the exception of pretty phrases cut out of magazines and pictures of places I have yet to travel, haunts I have yet seen. It holds nothing of me. I fear my words from the prying eyes, and myself even. For my story is as sad as it is monotonous, I can’t bare to think of it myself some. A smile curled her lips, spilling the water in the shallow chalice of her clavicle. “Sweet mother of god I love those eyes.” I put the coffee mug next to her. She grabbed my cock through my boxers, kneading it gently.“Is he okay?” I chuckled. “Skin’s a bit tender. You monster. Show me some mercy sometimes.” “As I remember it, you didn’t protest at all.” “No I did not.” “No, I did not,” I said. “I had my mouth full.” She laughed. She had that clear mountain stream quality to her laugh. It. More

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