I sit here as a failed artist, a miserable singer, an amateur photographer and a slightly competent writer. Have a poem: The sky is blue, this poem is stolen. When I think about you my balls get all swollen.
I sit here as a failed artist, a miserable singer, an amateur photographer and a slightly competent writer. Have a poem: The sky is blue, this poem is stolen. When I think about you my balls get all swollen.
48
12
1948
