I love a girl walking in a bikini, that little tiny span of material that bunches up ever so sensually.
I love the line that panties make on a firm bottom, like I were wearing comic book x-ray glasses.
I love the way a child laughs deep from within his soul, as if nothing else matters.
I hate the way I feel when I say something mean that makes a girl cry, I feel like I broke something priceless.
I hate to see children forced through life and circumstance to face the harshness of adulthood.
I hate growing old when nothing seems new and exciting, having seen it all.
© The Autobiography of Mr. Perfect, 2014