Honestly Beau ideal, a wholesome humdrum, homy-turned, the still small voice within, untickled by our toned down feathered bed. Feller you're not up to snuff, muddled by the self-stinting Y gene which snagged your pink chance. Nerve-centre cramped, mousetrapped, you're quarantined from love. But how I will pester for your unconditionally bogus tender spot.
The December 2009 issue of the magazine mgversion2>datura