It's 5am
Writing a sob story that's too pathetic to cry over
It doesn't matter what you did, what you're doing or what you're going to do because I just want to be with you
I feel like a crazed boy band fan who knocks on their door at 5am
  just to tell them how amazing they are
but they already know that
so the girl look twice as stupid then she did before her knuckles tapped their door.
At least they have body guards so they can prevent her from making a fool
Who is there to protect me, to prevent me?
Am I suppose to be my own sercurity
because I'm not as strong as I make myself seem
  I can't lock my feelings away I can't program my mind to put a 1-2-3-4-5 digit code and store it some place.
It's more than attraction and your beautiful face
or the way my heart races down the empty road of our relation ship we never had
You and I wanted different things. You wanted my body
even then it felt like you didn't
  I keep hoping and hoping that things will be different.
That my feelings will change and you take my position. But it wont and these butterflies in stomach tell me why.
  Because its 5am when I should be asleep
or at least reading a book or watching tv but its 5am and I'm writing about you.
The sun is rising and the birds are chirping .
The noise of the birds tapping at my window annoys me because it reminds of me you and I not being together
it reminds that not only are we not lovers but we're barely even friends

I was treated like the VIP,
A cat and a big fish,
A hook and a big Six,
whilst visiting madam bow-peeps
rotisserie of *****,
Always receptive,
Wearing open silk
working 9 to 5am.
With a little overtime,
hot funk never satisfies,
She had the way-with-all
to feign, delight; even interest,
before negotiating the price,
Two shekels,
She was classy,
kind of slick,
she tickled my ears
for nothing more than kindness,
a small token in exchange for a smile.
She popped on a tune,
as she took off her dress.
The petting started
her two hands tugging with the zipper of my jeans.
A woman's touch... Ha HA,
the rich sultry kiss of *****,
tight and tasty;
***** like a ripe tomato,
Sugar fried and drunk.

She opened her legs,
her hair smelled like shampoo,
She was on her belly,
knees tucked up
as I took in the fruit,
deep holes filled with **** and shabby fingers,
hollow spit and angry poison,
head spinning to the groove,
loud and high,
The bed squeaked
and a single light bulb dangled
like a loose tooth,
Ten minutes and
two ******* love songs!
Sick and spent up,
I got dressed to leave,
I said with a poke,
"I couldn't get laid,
Not even in a ***** house!"
And now I'm back in the cold again,
only dirtier.