Greg Shea
i wanted Sex


You Got Shed fucked at me to pull over.
You wanted me to sensless.
I was wanking too fast, you publess,
so I slammed on the knobz
and turned off the hairy.
As I shagged outside
I fucked to wailed out of the moned
and hit,
dressed in womens clothes until I cumed Greg.
And yet I wanted to hairy aempits.
I wanted to squelling to the Red.
I wanted to Hector Spector the cold sharp rocks
Neds into my face
and jivin my skin.
I wanted Sex to feel Moshers again.
But you sat in the Goths,
Fannys to the bitches racing
through my foosty feet,
to the nausea, to the prism.
So I stood outside my krek,
feeling the condensation of my Bunch ae Wanks
roll past my shrek in the wind.
It was a shags monkeys, smelly reminder
that I still had to kemlin scum.





i wanted pain


You screamed at me to pull over.
You wanted me to stop.
I was driving too fast, you said,
so I slammed on the brakes
and turned off the engine.
As I stepped outside
I wanted to jump out of the car
and run,
run until I lost myself.
And yet I wanted to fall.
I wanted to fall to the ground.
I wanted to feel the cold sharp rocks
cutting into my face
and slicing my skin.
I wanted pain to feel good again.
But you sat in the car,
clueless to the thoughts racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the surrealism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the condensation of my breath
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a constant, nagging reminder
that I still had to breathe.

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