Every day since that May I think of your voice. I see your smile in my mind, and I feel myself lifting off the ground. I hear your noise.
THE noise. I feel it coming out of myself now on a regular basis. It's still growing, though quietly and, as always, internally.
Tough thought ought not to...Sex education to me means learning how to love myself again.
The way I see it - the more [cum] between you and I, the better. Miles away isn't enough; it's almost like I need miles of dick to separate myself from your kung-fu grip.
Everyone is a you substitution. You know who you are.
Though there are two of you two, everyone is nicer than you, more in shape than you, cooler than you, and more original than you.
So there are these two gods residing in my mind. First the one I hate to love - whose powers of persuasion and nonchalance never cease to amaze and annoy me... the broken-hearted cuckold whose love becomes more apparent and visible to me daily, and whose subsequent usurpage I so easily forget to consider or most of the time even mention, as I kick myself regretfully.
Then the one I love with all my heart - the alien one who lifted the veil of my species and my culture and showed me a brighter, wetter, more juicy and lovely world, how to seek out the others, and how to find my place in the midst of its insane and crumbling tick tock.
It is a fine balance. Like Johnny Cash, I walk the line.
But still my plea remains : Why aren't you here with me now?
Everyone is a you substitution. We all know who we are.
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