Deadeye Constance

it’s funny how honeys love fucking or sucking for money consider talking as something to do for nothing
until they’re broken and rotten stuck in LA or the button of the shirt of a drug dealing cousin who warned them that working the dirty dozen streets of the week will leave you bent as pretzel sticks just less sweet
how many ways can you slave for pay to say you did something productive today and be able to spend it on bills that make you feel like an adult not a member of a cult of hippies shunning living for giving up everything they hold sacred to the god of love or shun away from societal crimes for the love of what was lost but bought with plots of soil to plant the seed of life and give us back our greener grass pastures leaving pastors preaching to empty congregations begging to building houses for the lord so he can have his pick of places to stay when he visits the world yet the earth is the Lord’s of course, since he owns all these houses
how long shall we go for broke to prove that we are smarter than the next guy in playing the game of life
loving honeys who stop talking the moment the well dries and flies


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