I sit here and write lines
helplessly helping words fall into place
sweating over the definition of my verse
maybe if I use big words she'll love me
maybe if I exercised the thought of apodyopsis she'll want to **** me
what is it that makes her drool
what is it that makes her bite her lip
I sit here and stare at the empty page
as curiosity punches me in the face
my eraser falls thin
the point of my pencil becomes a rounded wall
blocking me from lyrically crushing her current emotion
with my emotional baggage and excuses for questions of nonsense
she loves it either way
but I want to see her shirt drop and her pants fall to the floor
I want to see her underwear tangle around her toes and bra hanging by a thread
I want her to tackle me onto the bed
and grasp my body
as I capture what the **** to say or do
I'd be a clueless and moronic
human corpse, a space cadet
trying to make a moment I wouldnt forget
but my memory is a near epiphany
then I realized I'm my own histamine
falling terminally ill to my own curiosity
as I sit here and ponder possible ways to make her scream and scratch
claw and moan
fall into an intoxicated mindset
lost in the sensation, high from the ******* abstinence
I became sidetracked from my intention
perfectly plotting the lyrics to this poetic excuse for mental state of ****** cravings
was all I had to do, instead she was the only thing I wanted to do
I refused to control my emotions and spited  myself for my temptations
my punishment was to complete this poem
in the most utterly honest way
to indulge in the realism of foreshadowing
to amuse the literal stints line after line
and once I'm done, crumple up the paper
break my pencil and dispose of my imaginative discretion  
and once my page turns to black ash from the light of the fire
I will begin again
until she stands unclothed beyond me
until she forfeits to my literal ultimatum