I want drop-out cigarette-burned-bedsheets-sleep for daaaazzz. I need Thick rock hard cock in my mouth and pussy, swollen meaty pacifiers. I want to hear someone happily remark on how wet I can get. I want shallow, bloody scrapes down my neck so badly I could cry. I want Lots of Hott black coffee. I want three Marlboro Reds in a row. I want a shot of tequila, no lemon, no salt. I want three fingers of whiskey in a chilled glass, no ice. I want a Massive glass of shiraz. I want two flutes of Veuve Clicquot, one with a frozen white grape at the bottom. I want to eat a warm jelly donut while someone penetrates me deep, hard, fast. I want to eat a lemon like an orange. I want her clit between my teeth again, I need to suck on her lips and feel her moans in my jaw. I need to clean my toenails. I want to burn my wrists on a radiator like I did when I was fourteen. I want my ass to be bitten while I laugh. I want to be fed lox from someone’s else mouth and I want this someone to be wearing Polo Blue cologne. I want my earlobes bitten harder that my ass. I want a large glass of Coke, grenadine & rum with oodles of crushed ice. I want to have a sword fight with someone but with those little red bar straws instead of blades and we’d have to hold them in our mouths instead of our hands and whoever lost would have to kiss the other ASAP, making eye contact.
Do you ever feel like you’re pointing a gun in to a crowd? And that gun is you? And that crowd is everyone you’ve ever met or will meet, with your loved ones up front? And you don’t know if the gun’s loaded, or even if the safety’s on or off, but you’re pretty damn sure it’s loaded? And try as you might you can’t seem to get your finger to stop licking the trigger? Yeah. I fucking hate guns.