"refry the beans on the doorstep of darkness"
and
"cherish the fallen angels, for they are
often the most beautiful" --
these were the thoughts
that the sexy big-dicked young man
was having as he was watching
the birds migrate, and,
as he watched them through
the little tiny itty bitty interwoven
holes of his screened-in porch,
he kept saying to himself,
"refry the beans on the doorstep of darkness"
and
"cherish the fallen angels, for they are
often the most beautiful" -- until,
the certainty of his own
madness loomed like
a twisting clothesline
on the horizon,
and even the
turnip that was sucking on
his dick
could no longer distract
him from the certainty
of orgasmic
introspectivity,
the yearning of his
pants to slither back
up his ankles, and, at
the very least, cover up the
knees.
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