Peeking Through the Veils

Caribou, the tunnel through of you through me is fairly weak today. It is my death beyond death daily. I did have a sweet image of you putting your coat around me at the transit center downstairs and kissing me, publically. It is a little too hot to have it happen that way. Those change machines would go bling bling bling and there would be a copious amount of quarters all over the floor. I need our sensual assistance with this karaoke project. Starlings are basically a strong EASTERN EUROPEAN female witch. They touch a little too much or not at all. Their imagery and telekinesis potential is terrifying. I need the not at all. I am concious of a feeling of danger of another rape. Gruesome is what it would be, and there would be no coming back from that. Edict not to touch, internationally ASAP. I maintain my body core temperature by doing my own sensuality. I have no one in my immediate life who is a mate sexually or sensually. This is why my writing is so important. I can feel for me and other entity simultaneously. I am being stomped, today, emotionally, so thank you for being here. It matters not why or how you went away. Your journey is your own business. Just hold me in the night and tears may be right. I need to eshew that reality. Viewing audience is too brutality to allow one to slip through my eyelids. Shall we dance? Time to stomp all over France and use your new BOXING ability to take out the KING with one shot for the rest of the night. I love you. Luv, Hope