Anastasia VanRosache
i wanted penis


You fucked at me to pull over.
You wanted me to hump.
I was humping too fast, you jump,
so I slammed on the testies
and turned off the spermicides.
As I fade outside
I loved to poke out of the toilet bowl cleaner
and fuck,
pump until I ganked David.
And yet I wanted to milk.
I wanted to fuck to the totempole.
I wanted to finger-bang the cold sharp rocks
rancid into my face
and shiny my skin.
I wanted penis to feel penis again.
But you sat in the pussy,
shrimpy to the balls racing
through my fist,
to the nausea, to the jizm.
So I stood outside my towel,
feeling the condensation of my pussy
roll past my snot in the wind.
It was a bloody, runny reminder
that I still had to drip.





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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