mind all a spin.
all over wondering
where to begin
I hate rhyming
the word should be set free
Ah dear, and here I go again.
Take me. Make me.
Squirm and squeal.
Want to fuck me.
Make it REAL.
Dancing at midnight motion and light
Some kinda latte? something about a spoon?
Fuck these damn rhymes I refuse, GOOD NIGHT!
Cocky smile far too soon.
A kiss. An innocent seeming thing.
I'd love a kiss, to share the sweet.
Knew in moments where it was going.
I'd love a dance, just move those feet.
Too late.. there they go! I told 'em to stop! I'm trying to free the words but I can't. I'm trying to write out the joy and the ache. Trying to free everything that's inside so I can fucking come and get off and go to sleep! And instead instead of rubbing one out and counting sheep... I'm obsessing and regressing and being all a messing..
And the rhymes! The fucking poems... the hated "poet" comes spinning through. Her skirts all a flutter, singing of lust and scrambled eggs and fucking butter. I don't want to be lyrical. I want to make sense. But my brain doesn't work that way.
It's a top, a dizzy, a tizzy, a mess. Broken like they find me. Broken like they leave me.
Happy! JOY! See me smile? I am, you know, sometimes. Not hiding behind my walls. Not hiding anything. Give 'em everything so they can't take a thing. So it's all right in the end. And I promise it'll be okay. I promise I'll be back soon. Can I play a different game? How's cards? How's Duck fucka duck goose?
Make me smile? Oh but I am. I am. I will. I have. It's almost my turn, to turn the tables 'round. To leave. To lead. To run.
Mind all a wander..
fingers a useless mess
left only to ponder
why I'm in a state of undress.