im afraid youíll persuade me to come over and i canít come over right now

so i never message you first
hand in my overgrown pubic hair

one time we talked about underwear
how if she wears a matching set then you didnít surprise her;
she planned for sex
every time Iíve seen you lately Iíve been wearing a new clean matching bra and pants
every time Iíve seen you lately Iíve taken them off

am i too old to be weak with passion
or am i losing my imagination
it frightens me the scarcity with which i fuck
but itís only so little because it canít be you
and if it canít be you i am sure to be disappointed one way or the other

so i talk to you only a little

oh to have you roughly scrub my coke-numb clit
bounce on you with furious anger
for you to choke me with murderous intent
thud and slap and cum

and then watch dave chapelle and you tell me about the craziest most awful people youíve ever met
which is almost everyone

and lean out of the window smoking while the miscreants pile in and out of the shop below

yeah but i canít come over so itís useless to feel
no really i canít, im not allowed

Written by anna_grin (grin)
Author's Note
this isnít poetic enough it needs more bad metaphors
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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