vendredi 12 décembre 2008

Melt ! Melt !

Melt ! Melt !
And the wish
A young God
Has a potential
To declare……………………………………………………one, two, three of destiny.

Take the path
Of the past
Villous arch
And shave it to
Of a white skin
The amber shades.
A young God
Has potential
To decide…………………………………………………………………….several fates.

I argue:
Shall I stay
At edges of wheels
Trembling my bones
As a desperate hill ?
Or should I come
Between two domes
Of amber flesh
As a numb scare
Of substituted
Wanderer ?
A young God
As potential
Of declare……………………………………………….…….Who plays and who don’t.

Melt ! Melt !
the grain of
Passed flaws
To the liquor
Of future kisses.
And drink
To the end
That ochre spirit.
Will it from broken ribs
Create the other half?
A young God
Have ability
To proclaim………………………………………………………………who completes who.


Entre Deux Étoiles Polaire

Le monde est gris, trop gris.
Le monde te refuse,
Toi, l’oiseau de fantaisie,
L’originale vagabonde,
Qui rêve,
Là où les autres calculent…
Ton monde coloré est ailleurs…
Au fond de toi, naissant en
Arabesques aigues
Et volutes de fumée…
Monde plus qu’imaginaire
Où s’affrontes dragons et mythes,
Dégoût et volupté.
Rebelle le jour,
Sorcière la nuit,
Le temps passe en cristallisant
Deux mondes où tu navigues
De l’un à l’autre.
où tu survies,
Toutes griffes dehors,
Où tu cours d’un geste
A un autre,
Pour raccourcir le temps,
Pour ne pas t’arrêter
A regarder les autres,
Si lents,
Si gris,
Si morts…
Et l’autre,
Le flamboyant,
Où tu navigues en reine,
Elaborant des destinées
Et des rebondissements
De ciel.
Un qui t’épuise…
Un qui te nourrit…
Un que tu fuis…
Un que tu envahis…
Un où tu n’es rien…
Un où tu es tout…

Ainsi tu as construit
Ton monde…
Dual devant l’éternel.
Le yin et le yang
Dans sa plus parfaite
Et entre ces deux étoiles polaires,
En une tension perpétuelle,
Tu cherches ton centre…
Ce point d’équilibre majestueux
Que certains êtres éclairés
Pourraient murmurer à ton oreille
Qu’il est le point du Nirvana,
Ce point G où tout arrive…
Quête de l’ultime grâce
Qui depuis toujours
Appelle à naître en toi…
Et tu montes et tu descends,
Du noir au blanc.
Et tu sais qu’à chaque fois,
Tu frôles ta propre perfection,
A chaque fois tu lui en capture
Un lambeau que tu colles
Sur les pages blanches
De ton livre-vie…
Cette quête a-t-elle un fin ?
Une suite ?
Un avènement ?

Demain ton soleil...
Rayons de lumière
Depuis ton horizon
Vers ton ciel,
Et chaque ombre racontera
Alors son histoire,
Et chaque mystère
Livrera son savoir.
Demain un arc de lumière,
Jaillissant de la bipolarité
Comme un Tao-Te-King
Se révélant,
Unifiera le noir et le blanc,
Unifiera l’ombre et la lumière,
Unifiera la peine et l’insouciance,
Unifiera le souvenir et le rêve,
Tout cela en un seul royaume,
Le tien.
Demain le pont de ton union,
L’algorithme d’or,
Ouvrira au monde
Les portes de ton univers.
Et ce n’est pas le monde
Qui t’envahira de son gris,
Mais ton monde
Qui se répandra de lumière
Sur les plaines et les rivières,
Sur les enfants et les vieillards.

Tu t’assoiras sur le toit de ton toi,
Et tu souriras…..


Between Two Polar Stars.

Earlier ...
The world is gray, too gray.
The world refuse you,
You, the bird of fancy,
The original wanderer,
Who dreams,
Where others calculate ...
Your colorful world is elsewhere ...
Deep in you, emerging from
Acute arabesques
And wreaths of smoke ...
Imaginary world
Where battle dragons and myths,
Disgust and delight.
Rebel the day,
Night witch
Time passes in crystallizing
Two worlds where you sail
From one to another.
where you survivals,
All claws out
Where you rush from one gesture
To another,
To shorten the time
To do not stop
And look at the other,
So slow,
So gray,
So dead ...
And the other one
The flamboyant,
Where you navigate as Queen,
Mapping out
And bouncing
Of skies.
One that exhausts you ...
One that feeds you.
One that you flee ...
One that flooded thou.
One where you're nothing ...
One where you are all.

Now ...
So you built
Your world ...
Dual in front of the eternal.
The yin- yang
In its most perfect
And between these two polar stars,
In a perpetual tension,
You Looks for your center ...
This majestic balance,
That some enlightened beings
Could mutter at your ear
it is the point of Nirvana,
This life’s G-spot where everything happens ...
Quest for the ultimate result
Which has always
Called to be born in you ...
And you go up and down,
From black to white,
From grey to colors,
Knowing that every time,
You close your own perfection,.
Each time from it you catch
A flap you glues
On the white pages
Of your life’s book ...
Has this quest an end?
A suite?
A future?

Tomorrow ...
Tomorrow your sun...
Rays of light
Since your horizons
To your heaven.
And every shade will tell
So its story,
And every mystery
To deliver his knowledge.
Tomorrow an arc of light,
Gushing of bipolarity
As a revealed
Tao-Te-King ,
Unify black and white
Unify the shadow and light,
Unify the pain and recklessness,
Unify the memory and dream,
All this in one realm,
Tomorrow the union bridge of yours,
The golden algorithm will
Open to the world
The doors of your universe.
And this is not the world
Who will invade it with his gray,
But your world
Who will spread light
On the plains and rivers,
On children and the seniors.

So ...
You will seat on the top of your self,
And will smile ... ..


jeudi 11 décembre 2008


At the evening dawn
When shades start
To swallow light,
When every familiar
Subject becomes
A weird entertainment,
I feel depressed.
My energy comes down
And my skin shivers
Of cold breathes.

I wonder for a help
I beg for a light.
I hope a star
To shine my heart.

For years I did waited
That star to overcome
My evening darkness.
For years I have looked
By the window
One trace of
A sudden appearing…

But no one came,
Just street lights
Which falsifies the way.

Here I stand
At a window’s corner,
As a voice enters
My inner ear
And say:
“The star you’re waiting for
Sat since always
At the place
You think
It is.
See it far
And it will be so.
Wish it in your heart
And it will reveal
Itself as a morning
Glow …”

So I wish…
Wish my star is in me,
Wish a light drives me,
Wish I am no more
But be.
And I feel inside
The heat of a brand new birth.
The light of a brand new star,
Filling my shadowed stands
Of hour’s waits.
Now the star is in me,

Now the star is me…

mercredi 10 décembre 2008

Fragment of flames

In the dull damn secret
I lay down in psychic numb
Waiting for to go further
At the cross way of instigated wrecks
And a cup of honeymoon suckers.

Why? Why? Why? I don’t know….

Reversal emotionally perversed.
The subsequent condition
Of a situation’s trick
Is to open the door
And plant in the yard
The grain of violence
To let grow outside
Trees of x-porn mentality.
Let my libido be the super-nova
I deserve for years of abstinence.

A couple of creek-berries
Sings their song to
A punky crows’ army
That applauses every
“fuck off”
of the lyrics.
Let me prefer a glass
Of papaya’s juice
vanilla’s powder
the milky cream
of a final sweetness.

Here we are,
stop by this river,
watching the boats go by
to flow to the sea
hundred of
Funeral wreathes
In memory
Of Benjamin Britten.
Ten minutes one note
Skidding in virtual
To an ultimate
Ending bell.

Hey, bull shit Marcel !
You the fucker !
Do you know
the quite difference
between a nail
and a lie ?
No difference !
Both used to
Hammer in
Young virgins
To the tree
Of sex ritual defeat.

In my ocean of no words
I lay to the surface
My voice resounds inside
Of the Gregorian female singing,
One “Canticles of Ecstasy”
When Hildegard von Bingen
from the bottom
Of the XII° century
Traced the way
Of an glory highway
For human ears.

Step out
Fucking Fernand !
No place here for
Slinky sacrifices,
Rotted devotions
And cheap apologizes.
Rest in peace
At your stair,
And don’t come asking
For God to fix
Your faucets which run away
and your heating system
which spits flames.

God got better to do
By sheltering
Billion of innocent,
Children of any ages,
Of any colors,
Of any sex,
From sick vomiting men
That do mistake
The meaning
Of heritage.
Ask bonobo’s opinion
About sex, drug,
And rock’roll !

Finally in departure
For a far landing
I lay down
My sofa,
Too scared to walk
The here urban jungle.
Let me go in the primal
Forest and fuck with my wife
According to natural
And hanging at
The giant trees
We will watch your world
Rising down the ages….

Schizophrenia - Part One

Schizophrénie, tournesol d'une vie aux pétales éparpillés.

Arrêtez de dépeindre la schizophrénie à la lueur d’une hideuse maladie mentale !
Arrêtez, par la même occasion, de croire que seuls les autres peuvent l’être !

Nous sommes tous des schizophrènes en notre existence…

« Le terme de schizophrénie (« schizo » du grec « σχίζειν » [phon. schizein] signifiant fractionnement et « φρήν » [phon. phrèn] désignant l’esprit) regroupe un ensemble d'affections psychiatriques présentant un noyau commun mais très différentes quant à leur présentation et leur évolution. On utilise donc le pluriel pour les désigner. Les schizophrénies sont des pathologies psychiatriques d'évolution chronique, débutant généralement à l'adolescence ou au début de l'âge adulte. Il ne s'agit pas de "double-personnalités" comme on le pense parfois. Elles ont pour conséquence des altérations de la perception de la réalité (délire), des troubles cognitifs, et des dysfonctionnements sociaux et comportementaux plus ou moins importants. Le terme est fréquemment utilisé au sens figuré, notamment dans la presse, pour évoquer des attitudes ou des propos simplement contradictoires. »

L’aube d’une vie marque à jamais, ou presque, notre future.
Nous y intégrons goulument tout ce qui passe à notre porté. L’émotionnel est la porte d’entré d’un cerveau vierge et s’y amoncellent multitude de ressentis dont nos expériences journalières nous abreuvent.
« Feu… je me brûle, pas bon !!! »

Dans ce cerveau naïf, les cloisonnements se forment. Alignant rigoureusement chaque grande catégorie d’événements, associant situations et ressentis, pour développer plus tard un toile où chaque nœud assurera la solidité et l’équilibre de l’ensemble.

Mais voilà, certains événements viennent gâcher la fête promise d’un doux apprentissage.
Comme une machine à qui on demanderait de fournir déjà son effort, alors qu’elle n’est pas prête à le faire.

Nous survivons avec notre schizophrénie lattante grâce à notre aptitude à faire face à des situations qui nous dépassent.
Mais alors, que se passe t-il le jour où nous sommes tellement dépassés que rien ne nous permet de faire face. (Ce qui est tout aussi possible dans notre vie adulte.)

Explosion d’adrénaline, surproduction de neurotransmetteurs, stress émotionnel…
Le cerveau reptilien prend le contrôle et nous voici en état de survie.
Animal sauvage que l’inconnu menace…
Et les connections se font, débordant, connectant sous la surcharge, des points normalement inconnectables.
Ou pire, connectant la même information deux fois vers des zones contradictoires.

« j’aime mon père car c’est mon père »
« je hais mon père car il a violant avec ma mère»
je fais soft…

Imaginé le désarroi d’un enfant aimant et détestant la même personne, pour des raisons tout aussi valables les unes que les autres.
Comment trancher, décider ? Cela va à gauche, cela va à droite….
En ne tranchant pas, nous voici victime des informations inférieures.
Pour trancher, nous utiliserons des informations connexes (inférieures).

« J’aime les femmes sauf celles habillées en rouges »

Ou nous apporterons deux réponses, contradictoires, à une même question.
Et plus loin, nous seront deux à répondre.

« je suis celui qui aime » Vs « je suis celui qui hait »

Qui ne s’est pas réfugié dans un rêve secret ?
Qui ne s’est pas fabriqué une « autre » vie, parfois bien concrètement ?

« J’aime ma femme » Vs « j’aime aussi ma maitresse »

Impossible de trancher…
Le désordre s’installe dans une vie sociale chaotique.

Alors quoi faire ?
Surtout facile à dire que cela est facile.

Revenons à notre toile.
Régulièrement constituées de triangles, les informations se propagent de nœud à nœud par les fils connecteurs.
Lorsque la toile s’est « mal formée », ils existent des connections qui sautes des nœuds, ou connectent plusieurs autres nœuds.

Défaire ces connections, et reconnecter au bon endroit.

"J’aime mon père car c’est mon père,
tous les enfants aiment leur père.
J’ai besoin de cette amour pour me constituer.
Mais il se trouve que mon père était aussi un salaud
qui battait sa femme, ma mère."

Pourquoi ? Comment ? Qui avait tord ?
Ce sont juste des questions, mais je ne les mélanges pas à mon amour filiaile.
Tous les pères ne sont pas des salauds….

Remonter le temps. Refaire le trajet et VOULOIR, par delà nos émotions d’alors, refaire les connexions,
non plus comme jadis sous l’emprise de notre cerveau reptilien, mais sous le contrôle de la raison, du savoir, de la compréhension.
Décider, trancher , dire :
"Cela est bien, cela ne l’est pas."

Et s’il existe toujours des questions à deux réponses, c’est qu’il y a deux questions cachées en une. Trouver lesquelles.

C’est long, fastidieux parfois.
Les psys sont bien trop souvent d’une lenteur infinie, trop, lorsqu’ils ne sont pas tout bonnement inutiles.

D’abord, se documenter. Bien comprendre les modes de fonctionnement du cerveau.
Ce n’est pas si compliqué en terme général.

Et puis s’aimer, s’accepter en se disant que notre trouble est normal, au vue de des événements. Ne pas culpabiliser mais parler. Identifier chaque strate, chaque étape.
Tranquillement, sans se mettre la pression.
Avoir la chance qu’un ami, un amant sache et puisse gentiment vous tenir la main, voir vous corriger, vous suggérer, vous aiguiller.

Nous sommes dans l’affectif. Et même si l’affectif se gère biochimiquement dans notre cerveau, seul l’amour, le vrai, rouvre les portes fermées, démolit les murs inutiles, ouvre les fenêtres des pièces sombres et fait entrer la lumière dans les cœurs blessés.

Seul l’amour donne le courage de dire :

C.E.C.I N’.E.S.T P.A.S M.O.N D.E.S.T.I.N

Schizophrenia, Sunflower in scattered petals' life.

Stop portray schizophrenia in the light of an ugly mental illness!
Stop at the same time, to believe that only others can be!

We are all schizophrenics in our lives ...

"The term schizophrenia (" Schizo "from the Greek" σχίζειν [phon. Schizein] mean splitting and "φρήν [phon. Schizophrenia] designating mind) brings together a range of psychiatric disorders with a common core but very different as to their presentation and evolution. It uses the plural to designate them. The schizophrenia are psychiatric illnesses chronic, usually beginning in adolescence or early adulthood. It is not a "double figures" as we sometimes think. They result in damage to the perception of reality (delusions), cognitive and behavioral and social dysfunction more or less important. The term is frequently used figuratively, especially in the press, to discuss attitudes about or simply contradictory.

The dawn of a brand new life prints forever, or almost, our future.
We integrate greedily anything happening on our doorstep. Emotional is the gateway to a blank brain and there accumulate many felt that our daily experiences soak us.
"Fire ... It burns, not good! "

In this naive brain, divisions are forming. Strictly aligning each major category of events involving situations and felt, to develop the latest one canvas where each node will ensure the strength and balance of the whole.

But now, some events just spoil the promised party to a mild learning.
Like a machine when asked to provide its effort already, then it is not ready to do so.

We survive with our latte schizophrenia by our ability to face situations that beyond us.
So, what happens there the day we're so overwhelmed that we cannot cope. (This is equally possible in our adult life.)

Explosion of adrenaline, over-production of neurotransmitters, emotional stress ...
The reptilian brain takes control and we are in a state of survival.
Wild animal that the unknown threat ...
And the connections are, beyond, connecting under the overload, normally to non-connectable points.
Or worse, connecting the same information twice to contradictory areas.

"I love my father because he is my father"
"I hate my father because he violated my mother"
I do it soft ...

Imagine the confusion of a child loving and hating the same person, for reasons just as valid than the other.
How to decide, to chose? This goes left, this to the right ....
If we cannot decide, we comes victims of inferior information.
We will use related information (inferior) for our decision.
"I love women except those dressed in red"

Or give two answers, contradictory to the same question.
And further, we will be two to answer.
"I'm the one who loves" Vs "I'm the one who hates"

Who has not sheltered in a secret dream?
Who has not made an "other" life, sometimes in practice?
"I love my wife" Vs "I also my mistress"

Unable to decide ...
The disorder sets in a chaotic social life.

So what to do?
That’s Easy ...
Especially easy to say that this is easy.

Let’s back to our canvas.
Regularly constituted by triangles, spread the information node to node by the connector’s links.
When the canvas have been "poorly trained”, they are connections that skip nodes, or connect several nodes.

Breaking these connections, and reconnect to the right place.
"I love my father because my father,
all children love their father.
I need this to love me up.
But it so happens that my father was also a bastard
who beat his wife, my mother. "

Why? How? Who was wrong?
These are just questions, but I do not mixtures them to my love subsidiary.
All fathers are not bastards ....

Back in time. Repeat trip and WANT, beyond our past emotions,
Redo connections, but not as formerly under the influence of our reptilian brain, under the control of reason, knowledge, understanding.
Decide! Decide! Say:
"That is good, that is not. "

And if there are still questions to two responses is that there are two questions hidden in one. Find which ones.

It is long, sometimes tedious.
The shrinks are too often slow infinite, too, when not simply unnecessary.

First, gather information. Understand the modus operandi of the brain.
It is not so complicated in general terms.

And then love, acceptance by saying that our condition is normal in view of events. Do not feel guilty but talk. Identify each stratum, each step.
Quietly, without putting pressure.
Having the chance that a friend, a lover that do know you, can gently hold your hands, see correct you , suggest you, refer you.

We are emotional. And even if the emotional is managed biochemically in our brain, only love, true, reopen the closed doors, demolishing walls unnecessary, opens the windows of dark rooms and brings light into the wounded hearts.

Only love can give the courage to say:


Sodomy of a childhood

I am a boy…
A young boy of 10 years old.
And as any little boy
I am in a holyday camp.
I don’t like so much to be away
But after a while
My fear disappears.
And the director of the camp
Is kind.
Kind with me.
I like me very much.
So much than one night,
He decided to fuck me.
Now, as an adult
I would say he sodomized me.
As I was asleep
He entered the dormitory
Silently he uncovered me
And did put his phallus
In my child’s ass.

Disgusting, you would say ?
Yes indeed, it is.
Using his authority to mute me
Using the trust I had in adults
To abuse me.
I was not really
Realizing what was going on.
Just a pain in my ass…
C'est normal !

He’ve been in jail for that.
I guess he was needing
some psychiatric help too…
In my misfortune
I’ve been lucky…
No sequels invaded
My night with nightmares.
But how is it
For those million child
Raped everyday
Every night,
By perverse adults
Who must have ask themselves
“is it normal to want to fuck a child ?”
And go directly to ask for some help.

Instead of that,
They calculate
How to approach their prey
By the safer angle
And around midnight
Comes silently
To break childhood’s

I was ten years old
And fourty years after, I remember.

To all children been raped…

mardi 9 décembre 2008


A violent electric shock cross briefly my chest…
My left side, just beside the heart,
receive a 100.000 volts assault
and all my nerves are irradiated by this.
I decide to slow down the time
and live it in slow-motion…
The electricity rushing from cell to cell

To my brain.
The information is about to penetrate
My brain by flooding the nerves' extremity with electric overloads.
Chemical process will liberate the neurotransmitter

And the pain will explode in my skull…
This is the normal rule of pained sensation.

Shunt the flux… Is that possible?
Make this information not to activate
the alarms of the brain,

propelling the chained reactions of the pain....
I refuse…
I do ask my neurons to not liberate
The neurotransmitters….
No transmitters, no pain…
I fail…
The pain smashes the bottom of my brain,
A white veil suddenly cover my vision,
I fall on my knee, defeated.

But here is the challenge….
I know the process,
I know were to act,
I need to find out how.

I lay on a blench,

My head lost in the clouds,
I read their drawing
As an unknown book
Of medicine’s secrets.
The sky as an universal encyclopedia
I wonder the answer…
My neurons are controllable…
I must find out how…
Pain is an initiatory collapsing…


lundi 8 décembre 2008

Schizophrenic City

Long throng of slaved numbs
Rushing as million ants
To the smallest office
Of junk legal activities,
But at night,
As rings the bell
Of addicting spare times,
Wearing the mask
Of self-vomiting,
The human race
Rushes its boredom
In the violent spotlights
Of night clubbing atrocities.
Sequenced by WE’s outride
Where to drink
Is the first rule
And fast fucking
The second.
Natural process
That leads sterilized society
To self implosion.
In the schizophrenic city,
People live their life
By fragments,
Letting adrenalin’s injection
Fix the link
Between all parts
Of a dismembered existence.
And summing the waves
Of all those wrecking souls
To one social body
Give a face
At the paranoid God.

Who lives in silence anymore ?
Who trust the wind more than commercials ?
Who do one thing a day
And meditate on it the day after ?
Who reads rooted philosophies
Instead of pornographic fast food’s menus?

In the schizophrenic city
The wise man hide himself.
Too much unbalanced energies
Are hanging him around.
And if panic is collective disease,
To health it must be individual.
So the wise man shall
Walk the pavement
To every whore of them,
Crucify their pride
To the salvation altar.

Disproportionate start-up
so much every second fills
with new drug-addicts,
full of cocaine and crack,
who believe that broadway is
paradise on earth...

dimanche 7 décembre 2008


I am virgin land
Every stones finally turn to powder
And makes this land only curves…
Every footstep that did walked me yesterday,
Today by the wind,
Disappears to a new virginity…

I am virgin soil
Coz nothing has grow there
Which have been not dissolved back
To the rawer element.
And the rustles of other’s assaults
Always finish in wind’s murmurs…

I am virgin forest
That recycles every little dead grass
To another luxuriant tree,
And above my limb
Run little wild Will-o'-the-wisp
Ready to light the morning darkness.

I am virgin one
A decision,
A wandering wish
Of recovered innocence
An ultimate light point
That clarifies the dead line …


Deux hommes nus discutaient de leurs pénis.
Le premier disait
« Mon pénis est grand et large, il est fort et toutes les femmes en rêvent ! »
Il regarda alors le pénis de l’autre homme et lui dit :
« Sans vouloir t’offenser, le tien à l’air minuscule. Se peut-il qu’il existe femme pour s’en contenter ? »

Le deuxième homme sourit et lui répondit :
« Jusqu’à aujourd’hui, je trouvais le mien petit et effilé, et mes conquêtes féminines en souffraient.
Mais aujourd’hui, en voyant le tien, je lui trouve désormais la grâce de l’oiseau, la vivacité du poisson, la délicatesse de la brise.
Et s’il est une seule femme pour en apprécier ces subtilités, alors je lui appartiendrai. »

Survint alors une Princesse venue de loin pour trouver l’homme qui accompagnerait ses jours et ravirait ses nuits.
Elle scruta les deux hommes et choisi le deuxième.
Le premier, vexé, demanda à la Princesse :
« Noble dame, pourquoi donc d’entre nous, choisis-tu le moins bien membré ? »

La Princesse, se retournant vers l’homme et lui répondit :
« Ma terre est fine et délicate à labourer. Et ton soc ne l’aurait pas embelli mais ravager par sa grosseur. Ainsi, de vous deux, j’ai trouvé celui qui, de mon sol, saura tirer le meilleur… »

Pourquoi avoir toutes les femmes dans son lit, lorsque la femme qui s’accorde parfaitement à vous attend de vous rencontrer ?

Two bare men discussed about their penises.
The first one said
" my penis is big and wide, it is strong and all the women dream about it! "
He looked then at the penis of the other man and says to him:
" Without wanting to offend you, yours seems so tiny. Is it possible that it exists woman to content herself with it? "

The second man smiled and answered:
" Until today, I found mine small and fringe, and my feminine conquests suffered from it.
But today, by seeing yours, I find it henceforth the grace of the bird, the liveliness of the fish, the delicacy of the breeze.
And if there is a single woman to appreciate these subtleties, then I shall belong to her. "

A Princess came by far arose then to find the man who would accompany her days and would delight her nights.
She scrutinized both men and chosen the second.
The first one, hurt, asked the Princess:
" Noble lady, why thus of us, do you choose least well limbed? "
The Princess, turning around towards the man, answered:
" My ground is fine and delicate to plough. And your ploughshare would not have embellished it but to ravage by its thickness. So, of you two, I found the one who, of my ground, will know how to pull the best … "

Why to have all women in bed when the one that accords perfectly to you is waiting to meet you ?