 | | 21/07/2013 08:11
Sur le blog Bag and a Beret
Would you come to my Factory?
Smack, smack, SMACK! THWACK! That's the sound of me slapping big labels - trampling our divine bodies like many crawly advertising people suck suck sucking at our skin. I hear them, slurp, slurp, slurp, aaah. And we pay for the privilege! But why not pay myself for the privilege? A sucking leechoid at my own skin?! Shamelessly promoting me, moi, myself, my lonesomeness, my fabulousness, yes!! Why not? Shy exterior hides vampire-bat-like tendencies, although I look like I just rolled out of bed, which I had almost done, except for staggering to a local cafe (carefully in my platform shoes) as no milk in house, for one very weak brown liquid poured down my gullet...
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