the cologne he wears smells sickly sweet
it's mingled with his sweat and reminds me of a humid summer's day in Taipei
it can't mask anything
his smell,
mingled with wet beds, sour spit, and muffled sweat can't mask anything for anyone except for him
and seriously put, I don't think he covets baby teeth
the tooth fairy I met looks at it more as an occupation
I think he's gonna open up a beetle nut stand after he retires
This is nomad. We don't really know about his past and he doesn't really like to talk about it. All we know is that he had a pretty rocky childhood. He isn't musicaly talented or gifted at dancing. Too bad, no Little Miss Sunshine contests for him I guess.
We like sleep
Meet Milky the wonder dog. She never speaks. I think she's maya angelo. I took her from a family with children grown too old to care about anything but tests. I cut her nails so now she runs alot. And then...crash time
party like a rock star
Ozzy Osborne once claimed he partied so hard he had no recollection of writing the song "Mr Crowley" A guitar genious...a staggering guru of intellectual prowess...Milky reads her dreams, then plays guitar. Soon damn it! Soon! The world will know her dreams
the drive to mexico on pch
the valley
blue cups
queen of the valley
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