but i know not of this world
i have to pay to ******* myself?

where are my butterflies?
i want to tell them i am sorry,
have i been too loud, too dark?

i want to be the strings you pluck to feel things you feel
i am okay being locked in the cupboard or the corner room as well,
just keep me
even when i can’t give you those percussive pleasures
i'd have faith in you that there is more that could pour out of you for me
and when you pour endlessly i'd stay


so while being smothered i also wanted them to ride me,
unhinged, ride my face,
so unrestrained willing to use me and not hold back
they could not be any more real than then
so unrestrained, perched on my shoulders
the ******* blooming into flowers
the throbbing pearl inside of their lips i could hear and feel