i awake
heart racing from pre-mature sleep
my involuntary humping
leaving me like in a cold sweat
my cock points
and directs my walking
i sit and write
my insides are on its mouse wheel
i am what i am told
nothing more
ive been rinsed of will by will
can lust do all this?
set a course for eating oneself inside out
dry dripping want
reaching for light
it does seem now
that the closet is
a whimper's only refuge
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment