Wounded in the right places Bashny.Net

 

We are wounded in all the right placesOne Giant Leap's disgusting to walk through life with a grinning mouth. What a lie to cover up the nakedness of the soul matting makes happiness. What hypocrisy to wear on my face with permanent smile. What's inhumanity to asphalt their wounds.





We all are wounded. Injured on the job and in the right places. In the right places. The wounds are not about to turn off the tannins, not about curing herbs and spices. Wound – about to feel. Thank God I'm alive. If nothing hurts then died.

 

 

I feel it all. ©One Giant Leap What a joy to be injured and feel pain. Not for pity, not for the indulgence of others. Through the wound oozes soul. Through the wound opens up its depth. This is the short secret passage in the secret itself. We are wounded in all the right places.

I feel, I feel all the sweetness soothes me, the bitterness starts. I'm not afraid to feel.

Wounds penetrate the thin skin while you are young until cornification that there is a Dormer window to the soul from under the carapace of the so-called Mature personality.

Who am I to blame myself for the pain, who am I to kill the pain given to me as salvation? I hurt in all the right places, not up to me to judge of that.

I give them to whine, give them to hurt not for the sake of masochism, I pour salt on the wound to bleed, salt of my life.

Non-public case, look at the wound. Better alone or with someone who also feels to hold the hand when legs are trembling from the pain.

The pain is sweet. Orgasm is the sweetest of them. Maybe that's why we so seek him. Orgasm is a wound in the right place.

 

I can't kiss away these tearsI wouldn't miss your edges of your cliffsThey are clay, they are clues gone astray ©One Giant Leap the Ragged edges of the wound is not the place for the patch. Are the patterns on the body of the soul, mazes leading to a secret center of the universe, my own relief. The wound is not a reason for suffering, is an invitation on a journey, step over the edge.

The joints and injections are not needed, only tears should wash it from time to time, the warmth of the attention will support its gentle pulsation. Distant satellites sent to other worlds, sends greetings: all right, you've been shot in the right place.

The wound is the place of contact with another living soul. Sewn in armor loss, we love each other with their wounds.

It hurts me, hooked over the wound, not saved. No one to blame we wounded in the right places. Thanks, I found another spring, I remove the wet of the soul edge and look down into the abyss: who's there? published

 

Author: Alexander Baranov

P. S. And remember, only by changing their consumption — together we change the world! © Join us at Facebook , Vkontakte, Odnoklassniki

Source: www.alexanderbaranov.com/ru/2016/02/03/%D1%80%D0%B0%D0%BD%D0%B5%D0%BD%D1%8B%D0%B5-%D0%B2-%D0%BF%D1%80%D0%B0%D0%B2%D0%B8%D0%BB%D1%8C%D0%BD%D1%8B%D1%85-%D0%BC%D0%B5%D1%81%D1%82%D0%B0%D1%85/