dean susky
Thee is as if I had been drawn , and on the death list would be. It keeps me off of some sin. As I slowly scavenging alive. And anxious often are my steps, my heart has a sick beat and weaker it gets every day. A Angel of Death is in the middle of my room. But I dance to the shortness of breath. Soon I will be in the grave and no one will snuggle up to me. Oh, I want to kiss her to death.