No, for godsake, it aint soft porn.

The changes were just an effort from my side to prove I am not always under influence,intoxicated,blah.
I dont even know why I need to justify.
Well lets just say Im tired.
Exhausted.
And I am miserably failing in health.

Maybe next, we see, each other would be on a stormy night on the outskirts of town in a small clearing of blooming tamed flowers, nannied by a wheel chaired girl, brown locks dark piercing eyes et all.
Tattooed and dredded, eyebrows shaved off?
Coughing like a midnight howl, of a broken cloud,thundering.

Just seventeen.Oh damn.
Slaughtered, burnt, faded.
Flung,ignored,forced,used.
Lost.

I write stories, not my own though.
So stop assuming I am the dying bride, sweating in agony of being in the dross of love made last.

I could be your dirt.
I could be your fire.
Anything you please, mould me.
And two nights apart you won't see me anymore.
Cause I shall be gone, dragged by those visions of myriad colors, tucked in her bosom for protection from all.
A womb more protected that the womb itself.
Embedded.

So, the point is I am not propagating soft porn.
Though Id love to shoot for a photographer who needs a muse.