Being single is having nobody to share your existential despair with.
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when I finally wear my daydreams and fantasies
you will hear them approaching following the sound of my steps to the underground: there the soil will be bare and dump and ready for you to root your lust and ready for me to spread my seeds when you finally wear your daydreams and fantasies they will weight on your arms as you spread them apart and I bolt like a vulture of desire through the door your flowery dress will be torn by the sharp touch of my breath and the flames out of my nostrils will meet your scent and the taste of your breasts and the bonfire of your sex both of us will be hot and wet like cigarettes burning at both ends both of us will burn our safe nets we'll burn at all starts and ends when we finally wear our daydreams and fantasies we’ll hear them playing and teasing each other : in and out in and out in and out in and out we’ll be naked arsonists incinerating the night incinerating your bedroom walls and your mattress and your books and your vinyls fueling the blaze of our passion with the booze in our running hearts we’ll giggle as we watch the ceiling turning black with rising ashes we’ll kiss moist, slow, sweet and deep as smoke whirls around our synchronized tongues and lips when we finally wear our daydreams and fantasies I’ll pour Ayahuasca down your throat For that’s what my fluid turns into inside your mouth when we finally wear our daydreams and fantasies the concrete roof will open a hole above our heads and we’ll erupt like lava into the open air we’ll glide upwards our parts throbbing and exposed above the city’s lights our fuck will disregard gravity our moaning and groans will make angels fall of their beds when we finally wear our daydreams and fantasies they will make us float above the conflagration of all unimportant things and worries all mirrors will shatter for they won’t matter anymore all serotonin pills and painkillers will sublimate for they won’t matter anymore when we finally wear our daydreams and fantasies the clouds will grow thick and heavy carrying the anticipation of our orgasms when we finally wear our daydreams and fantasies all that ever was will be our intertwined limbs slithering on each other’s sweats alternating Kamasutra positions when we finally wear our fantasies and daydreams God will reveal that everything ever created all suns that ever exploded were just the ingredients to make your hips your ass your nipples your smoky eyes and the inundation in your pussy when we finally wear our daydreams and fantasies my pelvis will drown deep inside of you bliss will torture you, grow a bomb of ecstasy inside your belly when we finally wear our daydreams and fantasies you will gasp and swallow reality itself Time will become such a trifle thing such a petty concern of unenlightened creatures when we finally wear our daydreams and fantasies there will be a thunder made of our wail and howl and the clouds will discharge with pleasure and dense drops of cum will soak our bones and senses when we finally wear our daydreams and fantasies the world beneath will sizzle a white haze: it will engulf the bond of our sexes making us disappear from Earth so we can wreck other planets with our apocalyptic fuck when we finally wear our daydreams and fantasies we will ask ourselves: why would they ever invent clothes? when ears, eyes, lips, noses, are found inside formaldehyde cans with price tags and prosthetics make a new alley at Walmart when hearts are extracted out of newborns chests to be sold like gems when the sky has turned into the world’s largest billboard when it rains updates on our roots, for all foetuses grow out of smartphones when blood is replaced for zeros and ones when nothing but ego is to be found in the I when restaurants are packed with robots drinking wine when all objects in the Louvre are put into a rocket and sent to sidereal space for being junk of a dead era when the howl of deranged poets is diluted into the deafening volume of ads when the only job will be to swallow happiness pills when feelings are removed like thyroids when nothing is left to be said and done when we have sacrificed all chances of contemplating ghosts of suns and the primary and unique function of all things is to consume and/or be consumed: mankind will be a lonely boy picking up a pistol, one bullet in the chamber, entering the lone woods to play Russian roulette with himself. When I get home
after a hard day's work I just want to lie down and be fucked by a woman. How bad would I give my dignity away just for having a real juicy pussy with a delicious clitoris right here right now on my bed waiting for my penis, my fingers and my tongue. If there's a heaven, angels are pussies with wings. If there's a hell then Satan's teeth are being horny land moneyless like I am to eternity. I'm quite confident that this ode is just not as shitty as the quality of this poem but I write when it hurts and my balls hurt pretty badly for they are overloaded and abandoned. Onto the HD tits-cunts-cocks and the bitter-sweet sadness of watching people that are not me having sex. head in the kitchen sink
dirty dishes moist glazed eyes glare into the drain blood running slow down the sewer a leg on the bed undone red sheets empty holes on the pillows a leg on the couch stained watching TV torso in the basket dirty rags penis in the drawer unpaired socks arms in the bathtub moss fingerless hands for them fingers type nails hitting keys ghosts making words clicks and clacks and clicks and clacks and clicks and clacks as the rest snores the door will never open if you never come through I am those pieces waiting for you I wish I could turn on the TV
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