lounge

he don't remember, how it got there, it had a number, written on his forearm, it spelled disaster, all hoping, all hoping for dancing, he was looking, and looking stunning, his clothes reflected light, all right, she sat, she sat in the backseat, the car was plush but had no heat, and no not no one was blushing, their technique was so damn right, all right, and!, he read the note in the black light, he thought he read minds and was not right, that line still made him seem charming, his clothes were shining, shining