28 Monday

 Things were calming down I believed or rather the semester was ending. There was no more "newness" about a situation" people started to realize their faiths and rather more like if they had passed or failed their classes. I am to say some people obviously were just playing around because they were not to be seen again and/or where just one act ponies. They could just have gone at a time I was not there or went to somewhere in spring 2017 but let me tell you-I was there for much of the days of the week but Friday that semester. Would people change their schedule if something worked? I do not think they would and point being some people truly failed because they wanted to blame other people for how un college prepared they were and how lacking in ambition they were.

Yet I felt as if there was a chance with this person but realized the outcome would be bad. I mean; hmm, obviously they were just looking for someone to fuck because I was the nearest person around that fit their likings. They just assumed they could be friendly and include me into their brackets. What happened was, I never saw them again.

Anyways, this was written on this day where and when of course I had no clue of what was going to happen the next day. I was very much in the spirit of wanting sex then if you can even imagine. Around this time had worked on Mindgames again.

The interactive media and art class were winding down but malice still remained.

Before deciding to go in to the art class, I went to the tennis court to distance myself from people who came back with far too much malice. The day I returned to school with forced braids and the people commented on it in the  art class. The old woman did say she did not recognize me and it looked good. Aidra and the girl's faces lit up. The Caribbean girl did try to compliment me. But I was not anyone's ally but the old lady's really.

I would leave that class and go straight up to the front and just really realize how "easy" it is for people to forget things and things in which they had done. I wrote later a narrative, a one that has never been shown before.

 the touch of lemon.

How much in love with the written world was I? Each good book had great cover art and that

Mon. 11/28/2016 at 8:24pm

How much in love with the written world was I? Each good book had great cover art and that art helped the story along. Yet when I got older, I discovered the changing covers gave each a different feel to the stories. But also ruined the original joy of the stories. You would imagine characters different but later on further learn that these thoughts can be ignored as there is no definite character trait for a character unless defined so by the author, who happens to be able to draw.

I loved the bookstore, the place was a magical place, free from the nasty, disgusting and wretch world we live. There were many worlds and so I am bringing the feeling of this universe and this ethos to a new mantra and study.A study of worlds and like this story.

They wil1 all have different themes and character.

Oh, how I wanted to taste her shape. She has lemon blond hair fading and she smiles with brown tinted skin and freckles on the visible parts of our body.

If we surely could shower together, I would lick her skin. Like its lemon candy and she would smile and continue to kiss me.

Then in a heat and emotion, we would arrive at a climax where we could not even hold back. We arrive at certain conclusions in the shower as we were to be bathing and now we are just moaning.

And I in a dream like state, keep digging my tongue deeper and ever so slowly. The moan of her exact pleasure rings out and another tongue is quickly inserted by her and the tongue exchange. Slowly then we continue faster and faster.

We cannot stop.

Then one new tongue thrusts forward so fast and so frigid and the people of the barnes owl. They hear the sounds from our apartment complex located in the Barnes Owl. The consumers they smile knowing smiles that the book creators and distributors and landlords are doing well and they won't have to be worrying about paying their said share of work to even be living in the archaeology hall.

"oh, I love the book store" I shout! The only place where the older and elder intelligence can get it on in such a cultured environment. One filled with tech and not catered to a mass of idiots who simply accept reality just as is. "People, a place where the world does not allow the interment idiots replace and replicate theirselves and their nasty nightmarish wannabe civilized manner.

She starts to moan from these words.

Cause these are the envisionments of a dream lifestyle indeed that we live now and have fought so hard to live.

" A PLACE WE CAN CALL OUR OWN! Were we can live as the people of true civility!"

She screams and I yell. She in a loving manner pulls the tongue in! Faster and faster and I think my body is going to explode.

Suddenly she collapses and I stop, we are on her brother's bed, next door to us.

Amongst the places and theme maps of the cartographer's room, he is smiling in many pictures with many woman and she will never know true love and he is surrounded by books which transport him to worlds were these ideals do not even matter. Not even one bit.

Polygamist? Just to escape the fact there is no one in this world of his intelligence and style of thought. A malovence? Practicing abstinence till a sizeable/certain age to where you are able to take of yourself in everyway imaginable, have education and goals can be reached by trained skills. Further more hyping the education system to be to teach people what they need to be successful,and be able to take care of their dreams, ideals, ambitions and monetary wealth? And then be able to replicate with out causing harm to theirselves and offsprings? No way, such a system does not work for us at all.

We lay on his bed and laugh loudly as if to mock him, just for the fun of it,

she, the book seller smiles at me and we quickly take our leave into our own apartment get into the shower and repeat again.

Then we hear his pretty scream" GOD AND Equertha, no."

"they wet my cartograph thinking it was some bed cover."

We know we will be hearing it later on Friday on how we screwed up his progress, even when he had a second online addition with the notes thanks to his racer pen,

but we will not care over the pizza and soda. Not at all.

Even when he is the only knight of the estate keeping it running with his might.

We never learned the meaning of his living and his practices until one day he disappeared, most assumed dead and never returned. Now we face attack from savages of the borderland cities and their clueless narrative of capitalism.

But I will protect my taste of lemon, all that I have in me to protect our world and our narrative, I am sorry Askaishie Atachma.