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The Secret Diary of Janey Jones

You type to me so romantically. :rose:

There were two vultures on the side of the road fighting over a dead animal. I almost hit one by accident with my car. It didn’t make sense to me.

I thought he was a vulture picking at my face with his man bird beak. I am a dead animal. He likes to regurgitate his stress into my mouth. I told him I didn’t feel like giving him a blowjob today.
 
whispers and shouts

The mind whispers the things it wants and needs.
The heart shouts out if its the right or wrong to have.
 
SirVPL said:
The mind whispers the things it wants and needs.
The heart shouts out if its the right or wrong to have.
Click to expand...
I put my heart in a cage and whip it regularly. It's just a pump that is easily manipulated. I left neurology because cardiology is mechanical and comfortable. The heart doesn't question much, it just beats to this crazy rhythm.
 
My teeth are crooked and my face is blotched. The sick storm is coming. The bridge is busted and we can’t get to the well side. I am wet. I am weak for the swim and he doesn’t know how to freestyle with me on his back. I whispered in his ear swim on and stroke man without me, you can do it.

Because I am heavy now, and we will both drown.
 
A caged heart?

A chastised heart. A whipped heart. Let it out. U might find out that it will still submit.
 
SirVPL said:
A chastised heart. A whipped heart. Let it out. U might find out that it will still submit.
Click to expand...
There is a reason that hearts live in a chest cage, they need protection. We can't have all these vulnerable hearts beating around potential trauma. It surrenders only to exist inside a better built prison. :heart:
 
I am sitting at the social bar sipping weak Sunday ale spilling energy to the long time father’s friend of local shops.

A girl walks into the joint. They talk. She leaves.

Me: You are fucking her.
He: How can you tell?
Me: Does your wife know?
He: Yeap.
Me: Oh boy.
 
I don’t play cards with the guilt hand. When that joker shows up in my deck I ditch the dealer and go to sleep.
 
A gamble.

sweepthefloor said:
I don’t play cards with the guilt hand. When that joker shows up in my deck I ditch the dealer and go to sleep.
Click to expand...

Curiosity would want Me to see what is with that Joker. Who will frown first at tha Jokers smile? You or I? Love is a gamble. What will you draw? A joker, King, Queen or the Jack. Please I want a Queen a beautiful Queen...
 
SirVPL said:
Curiosity would want Me to see what is with that Joker. Who will frown first at tha Jokers smile? You or I? Love is a gamble. What will you draw? A joker, King, Queen or the Jack. Please I want a Queen a beautiful Queen...
Click to expand...
It seems that everyone wants the Queens. The jokers are not wild and sometimes I might be aces, but not powerful spades. This is the heart suit. :heart: I jerk off Jacks and shuffle, it is a comfortable hand.

I won’t ante up without loves rules, but I am lucky. This is my poke her face.
 
And on my birthday we played strip poker party in the attic. I cried in the strawberry cake bowl earlier in the day, but none of that stuff mattered any more. I got fourteen rides around the block on the motorbike, a muffler burned leg, and a shared bottle of blackberry brandy to turn sip. We are the neighborhood and we are coming of age.

I gave up the shoelaces first, and that is vulnerability. Lucky Thirteen is over, and we grow up trying to face the dealer.
 
That birthday they got me a bike but it was missing some parts so they took it back to the store. They exchanged it for the bike that never existed.

And that is when you learn about going to. People are always going to do something—this blinking cursor is going to type a novel.

I walked with these sacs in the morning pitching papers on porches. Life smelled like ink print and rubber bands. This was the dawn of our life and money for new sneakers.

These visible fingerprints are all over the milk jug chug without glasses. I am my very own crime scene detecting dirty hands and strong bones.
 
I am good for getting off. I am better than free porn on the internet. My back is a canvas and he is not an artist. That doesn't stop his cock ride between my cheeks. There will be no masterpiece.
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And then I walk away because I have been raised by a brutal humanity, and brutal honesty is the only thing worth walking to. Liars are weak.
 
sweepthefloor said:
It's so scary! The look in the eyes.


It's her angel wings? I can't be sure.
Click to expand...

I am intense.

I don't think there is a figure in the background it's just how Lindsay paints.

I don't want angelic purity I want the carnal pleasures of caressing and penetrating the flesh of mortals. Her false modesty disguises that she's positively gagging for it.
 
Sir_Spongiosum said:
I am intense.

I don't think there is a figure in the background it's just how Lindsay paints.

I don't want angelic purity I want the carnal pleasures of caressing and penetrating the flesh of mortals. Her false modesty disguises that she's positively gagging for it.
Click to expand...
I wrap myself around intensity. She doesn't look innocent at all, and that she is not afraid is the scariest part of the image.
 
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