who are you bitch

I look in the mirror and I find the answer, it´s good and bad,
fucking sad, or not, push yourself to the ultimate limit and
then you tell me who are you, only through being fucked up.
I wanted to write a poem, hit it.

ends in a ditch
she screech
and i become the daddy
you are my honey

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.


Hit it! (over 40)

this is were i belong
looking at your thong
this is me
with director Kubrick
inside goes the thing
you cry as i´m fornicating
you try to give me a kiss
it is dismiss

hit it baby

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

Just fucking my landlord

To get it out of my chest, yes, on my behest.

I live in an apartment with 3 other people,

1- Spanish, 70 years old man ( he doesn´t look it though).
2- Me, Spanish to my core bone.
3- A marrocan woman(she hates me and I hate her, most of the time we are polite)
4- THE LAND LORD. She never tells me anything of meaning,but, I do.
I tell her a bunch of things, 50% truth and 50% false.
I fucked her and still do. Maybe that is why my rent went down.

I do have to say she is a nice woman, I tell her about my things
she listens and gives me a point to go forward wich obviously I know
better than to depend on others peoples great suggestions, and then we fuck.

I´m a Christian-Catholic, can you entertain that?

Sex, I´m good at it, she loves it, I do to, everybody wins.

Forgot, the rent I think it went higher.

I´m in some women eyes a must,
a zero untrust.

I don´t say this funny me,
it is actually the truth,
wich not even I can be certain how this happens,
but it does.

I was going to ask like other bloggers to comment on this,
and I will not ask, but demand of you, I´m just the nephew of Hitler,
and if you won´t I will be depressed.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.