A tendency toward dulcet tones in a clustered warren where cloying hoi polloi clamber for a piece of crust, I await eagerly the cumming of the sun. Its approach brings the onset of the next stage of my pubesence. A crescendoing fertility that scrapes at the walls of the mass showers, these are the chips I bring to the bargaining table. My bronze skin, stoked by strokes of relentless golden summer sounds a winnowing process on my being.
I cannot wait to let my penis roar.