Trace your fingertips over bare flesh,
sending shivers down my spine as hairs stand on edge.
Silent sentinels on guard, eagerly anticipating the next neuron jolt
Every sensation heightened ten-fold, every pleasurable touch in all the right places
yet my mind has congealed to liquid contentment, too broken down to overthink and complicate everything like it normally does.
Ride the wave and every carnal urge dating back to confused adolescence
and try to avoid the heart-breaking realization so commonplace in meaningless attachments and one-night stands.
Fuck me until I’m truly numb and emotionally broken like everyone else in this generation of failed and forgotten misfits.
Pessimist Poet’s Words for Thought
“Anyone who has no need of anybody but himself is either a beast or a God.” -Bruce Sullivan