I dedicate all my love to your hot inner beauty (thing)

To you, adored one ... wellspring of my loinly desire, exquisitely souvenir of all my loves lunacy. Fuckdamn you are one hot sexy thing. Shit - you are my all fuckingly sexy things!

I couldn't even stop thinking about you all day in the class. I tried to pass on to you that note (it was even scented with a drop of the vanilla essence from the bottle I had drank before class) but your friend Janet whispered at me that "Sharon thinks your creepy", and she wouldn't take the note from my trembling hand, trembling like a stabbed bird with my trepidacious desires for your elicit sweet sweet sugar reading.

But even that I knew was like some carelessly worded backhanded compliment - you know where you mean to say a thing in a bad way that actually sounds good because that's what you sort of wanted that person to hear in their actual first heart, but not in a straight up "damn man - I dig your skinny ass, but bad!" kind of mannerism. Yes, I will state in uppermost pride: I am creepy, like the radiohead guy, or Marilyn .. creepy with my suffering in a world filled up tight with only pain to offer up for my tasty soy snacks.
Or so my first appearances led to the belief.

But then, much later after class during lunch while you were sitting on the lawn with the grass all tickling your beauty round peachy ass through your jeans and I tried to pass my note to you again wrapped around a rock, but it bounced off your head and then you through some uneaten pizza at me. This made me think of much shakespeer that we had read in class, and a thought sprang through my head like it was tied up to the ass of a cheetah, like a big fucking amped up ray of light! All of my thinking was in verse and words of rhyming, like that old bard of ye olde!

Oh Sharon! What rock threw complicitous air I threw?
Twas my love - wrapped exquisite on a stone of my hard manly desire.
But fucking fate! Fuckingly extreme fate!
Off yonder head of love and life and groins urgent need didest my rock bounce!
And the note wrought in nourt but zealous love by quivering hand...
of gelled up emotions and hormones and stuff oozing from my deepest heart
was then crumplest in your little cute tiny beefy hand.
OH! Oh! lustyfull youth spraypainted over with sticky love was I!
But yours was the embittered face of my urgent need and aim gone fucked up awry,
Your beautician face - all screwed up and with scarlet ruby red blood a trickling trickling
no sweet offerings from your honey drilling tongue then for moi (this is french for me) ...
only the harsh cold hand of swearings worst dirty words slapping, slapping, ever slapping my ears and brain,
till in a swoony running away I didst find a solace to sit in.

you can see in quite a plain manner the deepness of all my inner feelings for your fuckingly hot sweet self. But not only your outer casing of skin and fat and hair and toenails. But also your inner beauty. Not the muscleautury and bony bits or grey wriggly brain. But the pulsatey waves of inner light that you would give off if your soul would break on out of your outerly casing of body and things. You are like a crunchy candy treat - with even more sweet candy inside but being of a slightly different more important taste. Let my love bite into youre goodness!

Please Sharon, please sweet sweet sugar Sharon ... share unto me your inner love, and together with each other our souls themselves will get jiggy.