My favorite jeans, a comfy old tee, new running shoes, a pink lady apple, sun dawning over the Cascades, a slight chill in the apartment, some Motorhead on the stereo, hints of blossoms and buds on the Japanese maples off my balcony, and a paycheck in my bank account.
What more could a quiet, blonde boy ask for?
What more could a quiet, blonde boy ask for?
mistersatan:
Whores?
