jlemin

Words words words, will not come like I can not come maybe the words are my sex and since I'm not getting laid I can't get them to lay across this page the way they used to orgasmically burst, only to be strewn about my cosmic mind this sitcom like comedy that I'm living is giving me a wedgie inside of the ass crack of my soul and all of a sudden everything's just moving to slow Maybe I've lost it my ability to fuck my way through the vocabulary as if each word were my whore for the night my right hand pumping them out harder and faster like a detachable dick-tionary a prosthesis to make up for my disability of social

It's been a long day and I'm exhausted. My job is wearing me out. Being a starving artist isn't as easy as it seems. The honesty that you must constantly expose yourself to is maddening. I'm not in the best shape, though I do try to maintain what little health I Have left. My mind has been stuck, frozen if you will. I wonder if I'll ever feel anything other than seventeen? Once upon a time I lived my life out of a backpack and although it wasn't perfect, it was mine. But I'm old and overweight now so I relive my glory days in my head while smoking out my lungs in a desperate attempt to paddle back, swimming against the current of the main

I spend so many nights not being able to stop thinking about you long enough to sleep. I wonder if there will ever be a day that you find yourself thinking about me and what it would feel like when you realize that you want me too. what it will be like when your brown eyes meet my brown eyes and your moist lips meet my soft lips what will they say don't walk away this time any time you are mine you're on my mind be my guide let me inside I need to confide this is love defined.