When I think of Taylor S., I think of the stars and how they hate glowing. They hate glowing and at night Taylor S. sees this & I get it, Taylor S. alive.
When I think of Taylor S., I break my own collarbone. I break my own collarbone; yes, & I vomit blood in numeration! I vomit blood.
I vomit blood in numeration.
When I think of Taylor S., I think of the grains of the sands of the Sahara, & how to race a dune buggy on said Sahara sand. It would rock.
When I think of Taylor S., I think of the Sunday comics with their glorious weekend colours & I shirk, & I smell, I can smell the ink. It is ink smelled.
When I think of Taylor S., hm. What can I say about Taylor S., oh I got one.
When I think of Taylor S., I breathe easy knowing I cancelled the automatic payments on the internet bill at my last rental.
Ah, to be l'amour!! :)