So little wasted, her waist outrages the belt. Out-aged, that skinny mini-snake. Gone with hourglass’s souring, seasoned away with the years. Feels a full figure to feed, feeds a full figure to feel. Free. She salts sugar, à la queen. In 4-way stretch, fitting, forgiving. Future feast or famine is her layered parfait.
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WISHING BONE BRITTILE, SHE MEPURS. GYLPHS BELOW BIRDCAGE EYES, DOING GORE TO DONE-TO SELF. SLASH AND A SIMPER. DASH OF ROCK SALT, BLACK AND BLUE.
Across Beyond 