in my head

When the room is empty of our stories, when the room is empty of our bullshit, I want nothing more than reality. I want to feel the anger inside my gut exploding down my legs. Make a puddle of my best, right on your stomach. Sitting on your crotch and staring at your devious face. I scream a fucking thousand thoughts in silence, all you hear is the occasional outside noise cutting through the windows and filling the room we are.

we are

a couple of accidents, of excuses we gave ourselves.

we are so wrong it doesn't feel right whatever it is that happens.

But we like it. it is not to say we don't get used to it. Like  your hands down my pants, pressing hard and trying hard, until we are both soaked in whatever happened to be my pleasure, to be my penitence too.

Here's a reason to sit on you again: get you moist as I please, then down on my knees, so I can lick it all off again.

in my head, it's the last time.

in my head