The Grace of Mine

My love once told me that a warm day of June can't match my grace. And that as long as his words hang in mid air, his words would be true. My grace will live on.

A modern not so modest Shakespeare

I sit and write in my room at night. I write for my peeps, the world waits for new shit from me. Damn right they love me. Door goes up, she walks in. She is drunk as fuck. She lies down, I look at her. Damn, she is so drunk and smells like booze, still I love her, she is my fucked up muse. I know she loves me too, of course, I got the flow, I am the man you know. She lies next to me while I write, she snores, loud! She kicks me and slaps me in her sleep, what the fuck?!

Damn, she is fine, from toes to top. Her skin is soft and warm. She is like a breeze to me in this June eve, keeps me warm when cold comes too. She is all time green and warm. Sniff, sniff, booze smell, damn.

I am done, I post my shit. I know it will be a hit. Now all will know of my chick, love her! Damn, booze smell…

She is Damn Hot

I am in love with a girl. She is damn hot, more so than the sun. And thanks to me she will not die, for I wrote this piece of text in which she will live on. Yay me!