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Amit Jotwani

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The blue of the sky answers to the adjective called agitated, maybe borrowing that shade from my soul. It seems we reside on the same street. I emphasize totally. #AgitatedSoul #yqbaba

The blue of the sky answers to the adjective called agitated, maybe borrowing that shade from my soul. It seems we reside on the same street. I emphasize totally. #AgitatedSoul #yqbaba

Amit Jotwani

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Agitated moths, plastered against almost opaque windows of hope, chasing dreams, making love to fickle flames oblivious to our intense unrequitedness. That's what we are. Nothing more. #AgitatedMoths #yqbaba

Agitated moths, plastered against almost opaque windows of hope, chasing dreams, making love to fickle flames oblivious to our intense unrequitedness. That's what we are. Nothing more. #AgitatedMoths #yqbaba

Srishti Yadav

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Finally, Agitated nebulous words Inside the bold heart Overt out just like fire. To write a new story. #yqbaba #yqtales #agitated #nebulous #overt #newstorybegins #heartspeaks #infinity

Finally, Agitated nebulous words Inside the bold heart Overt out just like fire. To write a new story. #yqbaba #yqtales #agitated #nebulous #overt #newstorybegins #heartspeaks #infinity

Amit Jotwani

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Ripples concentric to waves corrugated, the agitated blue shows ambition, exhibiting a centrifugal will to get somewhere. The serene waters may just be a benign poster boy for convenient sanity, camouflaging the reality of the dissent within. Show passion, get involved with life. Just don't trip on the frills. Your life should be a large, strong peg #AgitatedBlue #passion #life #yqbaba

Ripples concentric to waves corrugated, the agitated blue shows ambition, exhibiting a centrifugal will to get somewhere. The serene waters may just be a benign poster boy for convenient sanity, camouflaging the reality of the dissent within. Show passion, get involved with life. Just don't trip on the frills. Your life should be a large, strong peg #AgitatedBlue #passion #life #yqbaba

Santhanamullai Mohan

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I'm struggling between my job , you , and the things I like to do. Just I'm tired of breathing. #pain #stressed #stress #fuckedup #agitated #anxiety #exhausted #tired

I'm struggling between my job , you , and the things I like to do. Just I'm tired of breathing. #pain #stressed #stress #fuckedup #agitated #anxiety #exhausted #tired

Banwari Lal

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Long se vashikaran – Handling your dominating Boss like a kid contact +91-9178117363 Agitated with your work life? Your boss is conspiring

Long se vashikaran – Handling your dominating Boss like a kid contact +91-9178117363 Agitated with your work life? Your boss is conspiring

Diwa

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1. "Pachinko," Min Jin Lee. 2. "Mayada, Daughter of Iraq: One Woman's Survival Under Saddam Hussein," Jean Sasson. 3. "The Lightless Sky: An Afghan Refugee Boy's Journey of Escape to a New Life in Britain," Gulwali Passarlay. I read several books this year. A lot of them were forgettable while some of them agitated me enough that I found myself writing raving revi

1. "Pachinko," Min Jin Lee. 2. "Mayada, Daughter of Iraq: One Woman's Survival Under Saddam Hussein," Jean Sasson. 3. "The Lightless Sky: An Afghan Refugee Boy's Journey of Escape to a New Life in Britain," Gulwali Passarlay. I read several books this year. A lot of them were forgettable while some of them agitated me enough that I found myself writing raving revi

Blue Butterfly

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"You are mine", my ego boosted. "No, I'm not", silence gestured. "Your silence can't be interpreted, ever against my hunger", my silence countered. The silence in reply again mocked, plundering my self-esteem. A thought is a person's possession, a selfish asset. Some days, they are in unflinching love with you. Some other days, "you show me some respect", you seem to yell at a mute, heightened emotionally amplified voice—unheard. And to prove a point sometimes, though the words seems rigid, existing like a dead block of wood, senseless to all your fondling; even while you run your fingers, seducing it all around; it remains pale and unmoistened. Later at an agitated state of mind, I smear between her legs, my chauvinist spit, and then I fuck HeR, force muttering, "you are mine, mine

"You are mine", my ego boosted. "No, I'm not", silence gestured. "Your silence can't be interpreted, ever against my hunger", my silence countered. The silence in reply again mocked, plundering my self-esteem. A thought is a person's possession, a selfish asset. Some days, they are in unflinching love with you. Some other days, "you show me some respect", you seem to yell at a mute, heightened emotionally amplified voice—unheard. And to prove a point sometimes, though the words seems rigid, existing like a dead block of wood, senseless to all your fondling; even while you run your fingers, seducing it all around; it remains pale and unmoistened. Later at an agitated state of mind, I smear between her legs, my chauvinist spit, and then I fuck HeR, force muttering, "you are mine, mine