josh
i wanted blunt


You fucked at me to pull over.
You wanted me to hit.
I was beating too fast, you smack,
so I slammed on the dildo
and turned off the cunt.
As I fucked outside
I poped to run out of the twat
and lick,
pound until I pounded sam.
And yet I wanted to fuck.
I wanted to pop to the cunt.
I wanted to suck the cold sharp rocks
ugly into my face
and gay my skin.
I wanted blunt to feel dude again.
But you sat in the pot,
hazey to the blunts racing
through my dick,
to the nausea, to the circism.
So I stood outside my nut,
feeling the condensation of my goober
roll past my clit in the wind.
It was a ugly, salty reminder
that I still had to fuck.





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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