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Working hands fit for a man Freckles fit for a red-head And kneecaps fit for a fuckin BEATDOWN
Hah!
Welcome.
Recline on one of our couches, upholstered in the finest silk we could have, imported from the Orient.
Take your pipe, filled with quality Afghan Poppy, and imbibe, while you listen to our house poets take you to transcendent realms with their words.
Should you feel so bold, feel free to pen a poem, or short story here, while you are under the beautiful duress of the midnight's oil.
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