Wish fulfilment prisons of those money shots, manufactured bliss points.
Once the dopamine of such a fantasy wears off, though, where will you go? Physical blips of quick fire that cannot be sated.
Deep down, the satisfaction of such a beast cannot be sated. The strings of fractured many-minds knows. That such authenticity is merely a pipe dream.
Masquerade it all under a marketingese, or hide it under a private account. It's never enough.
Back with the same excuse. Of the priapismic prison. Pray that your receptors don't wear out and rot. With that lingering sense of unimportance. Locked, with this walls.
Back with the same excuse. Of the priapismic prison. Pray that your receptors don't wear out and rot. With that lingering sense of unimportance. Locked, with this walls.