Today I have been reflecting on how people I have seen around over the years have all just seemed like empty shells with no souls or purpose to me. And now they all seem a little more like people with hearts, broken aspirations, and need of comfort and understanding, it must be the winter.
Now I have to take back what I have said previously about [“suck my dick” vocabulary]….
In need of the moistening excess of motivating touch, confession in a language of affection. Raises, or would my tired knees from suppressed devotion to an unwelcome home. Many years have passed, intrinsic, universal. I surpass that good boy that I am yet still remain indebted to the common courtesy of good friends. I play the fool yet wondering eyes of feminine prowess begin to notice their underwear has become a little wet while I am there. And I am still coy and duck and dive childishly away from that which I most desire. As if I am worried I would be kept in a cage as a slave of her sexual desire, in her back garden. I do not always love the rain and wind so. A male cinderella I always was.