No one knows these dreams of mine
Melting candles and deep red wine
only thoughts of you I think
of your soul I wish to drink.
Flipping the pages of my mental index
a diary of masturbation
Oh! How it comes to me at night
to torture me
my loneliness
in logorrhoea
like some huge labia
grabbing me choking me.
But I can't feel it
I know it's there
killing me
with image
and myth
I can't believe
how much I
pleasured and pumped
into her image.
The rest of me
an excretion of pain
fucking her tight
graphite graphic hole
squeezing the cum from
my furious pumping headache
I just want to get dry.
The poltergeist of my
embarrassment vanishes
and I am immobilized
and my fantasies vanish
in the swirling haze
of my finger tips.
THE END
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