poop
i wanted ass


You fingered at me to pull over.
You wanted me to suck.
I was blowing too fast, you fuck,
so I slammed on the toilet
and turned off the poop.
As I fucked outside
I sucked to fuck out of the yoga
and lick,
suck until I humped jacob.
And yet I wanted to thrust.
I wanted to finger to the dick.
I wanted to suckle the cold sharp rocks
wet into my face
and long my skin.
I wanted ass to feel dick again.
But you sat in the breast,
elongated to the testicles racing
through my vagina,
to the nausea, to the fuckism.
So I stood outside my asshole,
feeling the condensation of my bed
roll past my fart in the wind.
It was a hard, long reminder
that I still had to suck.





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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