Pen
Through sickness and health, I give you my love. Until you need a new soul, only then will I love you again, after that moment of anger dissipates and you have a new soul.
It takes a lot to frustrate me to the point where I need a cigarette and Guinness. Job & Texas, you've managed to do it yet again, in only a matter of days. The crazy thing is I don't like cigarettes that much at all, but when the stress and anger come in, my god you are so sweet, perfect, soothing, calming; you are a sheep in wolves clothing. You are the incarnation of love. And Guinness, you are the incarnation of beauty. If you were a living breathing soul, I would declare my love for you without a moments hesitation (I'd do that any time. Not due to stress or anger). Then, I turn on old Rolling Stones, not the crap they only play on the radio. The stuff that doesn't get played. I calm down and now that the anger and stress have left, I feel the dirty taste on my tongue of that cigarettes. My head is light. I take another sip of Guinness.
Pa
Nicholas D.
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