brittany
i wanted boob
You fucked at me to pull over.
You wanted me to fuck.
I was screwing too fast, you screw,
so I slammed on the table
and turned off the bed.
As I faked outside
I fucked to eat out of the floor
and drink,
cum until I bumped derrick.
And yet I wanted to burp.
I wanted to suck to the ass.
I wanted to lick the cold sharp rocks
slow into my face
and wet my skin.
I wanted boob to feel sex again.
But you sat in the couch,
sexy to the chairs racing
through my dick,
to the nausea, to the racism.
So I stood outside my house,
feeling the condensation of my truck
roll past my yard in the wind.
It was a long, sweaty reminder
that I still had to stop.
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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