I want you pale and naked,
hips thrusting towards mine.
I want you on top of me
my hands on your *******.

The sunlight shines,
and the sun does set.
All I want is you
playing with my hair.

It's been a few weeks.
And it'll be a few more,
before that lovely girl
comes knocking at my door.

I am a patient boy,
I'll wait and I'll wait and I'll wait
for you.

Rap ah tat tat,
and rap ah tat tat,
please tell me when
my baby will be back.

Tick ah tick tock
and tick ah tick tock,
I long for the day
when I don't dread the tick of a clock.

The mere idea of your person
is a tonic, potent enough to intoxicate.
And intoxicated I will be
as long as your words
roll of your lips
and ring in my ears.
It's hard to say
but it's easy to feel:
all I want is you
and all I need is a chance.

A connection made is a chance for it to fail,
and some thing never loving is better
than taking the chance of losing love.
I could not disagree with these people more.
Perhaps they have never met someone like you
and perhaps they will never.
Perhaps they have never been drunk
off lust
or perhaps they refuse to alter their
state of consciousness enough
to allow lust to manifest itself
into a physical ache.
More than mental yearning,
I can feel it in my gut;
pulsing and pounding,
feeling its way to every corner of my body.

Perhaps the brandy is actually what's intoxicating me;
for every glass I drink
the pulsing becomes quicker,
the pounding becomes harder
and the feeling reaches parts of my body
I didn't know could feel.

Better grab some while you can.
Remember when you said "no, you ain't my man?"
Years from now you'll be alone,
and I'll be writing novels, my talent full grown.
A single tear from your eye will fall,
but don't even bother wasting time making a call.
You made a decision, now you gotta live by it,
and they'll be paying me to speak, tv and ****.
Someday, your boyfriend will by a book,
he'll read you one line from it and you'll know its me without even a look.
You have a man, he's on your arm,
when you see my name on the shelves, I'll be long gone.
You'll realize what you had,
but you threw it all away, you must've been mad.
Someday, you'll see that it's all true,
no need to debate, I'm the best at what I do.

You might be thinking "****, this boy's arrogant"
but you gotta fake it 'till you make it and then a little more.
But for now, I'll sell my **** to buy drugs
and when I'm all out of **** I'll start stealing
and when I've stolen everything, I'll start earn it.
And when I've earned the highest accolades
I'll just smile
because I told you so,
and you told him he was the one.

Someday you'll cry because there won't be a sunrise,
and you'll realize the mistake you've made.
I may be a loser ****** right now,
but the next bump will be last
just like the one I blew five minutes ago
just like the first time I ever tried it a high school bathroom
just like every bump in between.

On the first day I noticed nothing but your hair.
How it caught the sunlight and reflected it tenfold.
How it swayed around your neck.

On the second day I noticed nothing but your lips.
How they individually felt between my teeth.
How they left marks upon my neck and thighs.

On the third day I noticed nothing but your mouth.
How the words flowed out, powerful as an ocean.
How your teeth would bite me ear, drawing blood.

On the fourth day I noticed nothing but your hands.
How they held mine, always eager to calm them.
How they pulled the needle out of your arm, quivering.

On the fifth day I noticed nothing but your legs.
How they powerfully allowed you to stride great lengths.
How they were ever in motion, even in your deepest parts of sleep.

On the day sixth I noticed nothing but collarbones.
How I wanted nothing more but to crawl in to them and rest.
How I could gently **** on them, causing your whole body to palpitate.

On the seventh day and for years since I have noticed nothing but each individual hair on your body.
They each have a name, Kassandra, Jared, Peter, Ryan, Falyn, Jacob, Hammed, Caroline, Audrey, Yo-Landi, Diane, Khajjitt, Daralyn, forever and ever and ever.

On the last day I noticed how I never noticed your eyes.
But you were gone,
and I could not tell you what color they are.

The Outlaw Josey Wales doesn't shoot so much anymore,
he has nothing to shoot at.

The sun blazes and it blazes and it burns all those under it
with extreme prejudice.

From the Alpha to the Omega the teeth of wolves are sharp
and they tear through flesh with such disregard.

Jack Kerouac is still writing, the ink still rolls from his pen on to paper
but now, thankfully, nobody knocks on his door.

Death will come once, and death will come for all,
and I'm sure when death comes, I will be cold
and all alone.

It's hard,
but I'll be able to accept it after a few more shots,
a couple more hits,
and maybe a line,
but as I am in a semi sober state
it is hard to believe.

Hard to believe that you chose him over me,
hard to believe you swoon around him,
and don't bat an eyelash at me.
It's hard to believe he's my best friend
and I'm letting him do this.