It doesn’t matter where you stick or who you stick it into,
or who sticks it in you, as long as you get to stick it in someone, rolling
with it, making someone feel good, or they, you
It doesn’t matter how many get involved, bringing it to the
front door or back or the vacancy up top, choking on it, or having it stuffed
up inside, boy or girl or some other thing, as long as it feels right.
It doesn’t matter how often you do it, as long as you do it a
lot, maybe with a lot of artners, or one after another after another until you’re
worn.
It doesn’t matter if you stick it to a stranger or someone
you know, someone dark and mysterious found in a dark corner of a bar, whose gaze
is on you from the moment you enter and clings to you when you leave, someone
who is so intense you won’t let them leave without, even if you don’t have a
name, even if there is someone already waiting for you at home. You never get
enough of it, even when you think you do, and you search if out everywhere you
go, friend or stranger, or someone in-between. You just need someone to stick
it to.
No comments:
Post a Comment