CAN'T SAVE THE DAIRY FOR THE MEAT

My love is the moist tendril of tropical tubors.



Your love is the deep well, the stomach of an acorn fed pig.



Together, we are the opening shit of a brand new existence.

HUMAN DAIRY OF A GIVEN WORLD

LIFECYCLE: Sperm hits the egg. Deet deet deet. Newborn from the vagina of a healthy woman. Lips to nipples for 365 days.

This continues until you realize there is no hope, no chance of a life outside of your own skin, so you grow more and more determined to return to the inside of another.

This happens. This repeats. Work pays the bills but a paycheck is in the currency of a lost civilization that isn't going anywhere. This should be ignored. The internal world is all there is. Life designed by science designed by a life attempting to fold into itself.

At a certain temperature, I'm sure, skin will not burn but only melt. Bring man to woman and let sizzle. You will, eventually, mold into one demented form on single life.

tada.

YOU'VE BECOME NO JOKES FOR COMMON KICKS

IN THE YEAR 2020: Nothing will matter. The national anthem, "Nothing Else Matters," will bring everyone to orgasm. Instead of weepy patriotic tears, there will be streams of cum and vaginal discharge, the state fruit of California.