Cook in
The reason I can’t use drugs,
Is because even when sober,
I find reality,
So unrecognizable from fantasy.
Unprovoked, your image emerges,
That light beam of a smile,
A face I can’t stop staring at,
Even when I’m kissing it.
I’m really not one to lust (lies),
But I hope for a feeling more meaningful,
Still, WOW! What a sweet small of a back,
My hands are forever grateful.
I am writing this, really, because I feel stuck,
Because attempting to move deeper,
Is a gamble with luck,
It's a contest with option A who hovers around you af.
It's a demanding of affection,
An admittance to needing your attention,
A hoping to adhered expectation,
And disgustingly open communication.
I can’t have that,
I was gonna be a bad this year,
As red as I wanted to get this month,
I'm saving my tear.
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