the first time a girl put her hand up my shirt,
i discovered i have a, uh,
duh-uh-o, do you know the feeling when you're on the precipice of something and you're this close?
i was this close, and she asks me, "is this okay?" and i say,
f-f-f-fu-uck it f-feels guh-guh-guh-guh-uh-
GOD this feels bad, what i'm guh-getting at is i have a m-******* stutter!
yeah, maybe you won't hear it when we talk about class or work or that ******* **** that we met yesterday, but press those lips to my neck and chuh-chuh-check it out y'all!
my verbal clutter is my diaphragm's way of bouncing out ***** talk, chalk it up to muscles aflutter or some mental shudder when it comes to confronting my fee-ee-eelings, but eh-eh-every time she fu-ucking touches me my brain runs off squealing!
she turns to me, she says, “what's going on?” i say, oh buh-uh-uh-baby, i'm way too far gone.
y-your h-hands are bur-urning me up, i thi-ink i might ruh-uh-upture something if you g-get too close.
you know i want you the muh-uh-ost but guh-god my ******* tuh-uh-ongue isn't wuh-working, can i buh-orrow yours?
i took speech classes. i know how to enunciate, pontificate, exonerate, and yet never in ******* debate did i learn what to do when your anxiety won't abate.
i know this is a spate of splutter, i'm trying my best to utter what's going on in my mind, gorgeous, but my larynx is moving like a tortoise on crack, my mutter is trying to thwart us and i just can't fight back!
she says “take a deep breath,” i say g-god, give me death (and a ******* thesaurus).
let me delineate this a little more. sure, my attitude acts slack but what's wack is i asphyxiate when i step out of my comfort zone like i just stepped into outer space.
you might associate me talking like a chuh-chuh-chuh-cheap drum track with h-humiliating ****** encounters, but let me beg to differ.
i'm a p-pro at initiating, i give her wh-what she wants even if i do have a lot to uh-unpack. what can i s-say? i deliver.
so here's my th-ee-esis, ladies.
if a girl says what that mouth do, i ask her, buh-baby, what're y-you in the m-mood f-for?
i'm a g-giver, this juh-aw cl-cl-learly moves quih-icker than hu-uman brains are suh-uh-pposed to be thinking, so how about we buh-board this oh-oh-oral migr-gr-graine and ta-ake a o-one-way tra-a-ain to an ear-earthquake-sized shiver?
my t-tongue may be t-******* in knots, but i have lots of other ways to communicate how i appreciate the way you look right now. i can elucidate any spots of confusion for a beautiful being as venusian as you, because boo, in seclusion, there’s no disillusion that these college cots simply can’t bear the fusion of something as incredible as us.
but what i don't want is for you to pretend like it's ****. to s-eh-ex me can be hard; we're gonna need some hand signals, some honest discussion, definitely some patience with every kiss.
but let me ask you this:
would you prefer silence?
this is way better when it's performed but i tried to transcribe it to writing as best as i could. i hope y'all like it!