Pillow pills of sheat, dusted over the half cracked mirrors. Business men, their tight conservative dress shirts. The taste of whiskey, still lingered on her tongue. She struggled to breath them into her. Their soft lips, against her shoulder, burnt like hot wax. As they kissed her bloody wrists, with their moist tongues, they think of leaving.... E-mail: shirley@PubNIX.NET (please e-mail me) :)
Reason for writing:
My e-mail adress is shirley@PubNIX.NET....My name is Amy....
Birth sign: Not entered
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