Doo doo poem i wrote that idk where it belongs other than definitely not in the public eye

Do you really feel pleasure?

Do you really ever give yourself time to become aroused?

Do you understand, that the moment a hand touches your lower back,

the safety plan Has been deployed?

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You are wet,

you are panting,

you are squirming, screaming and straining.

You are seeing stars, jumping and twitching.

the orgasm feels as though a stake has been driven through your lower abdomen.

Do you know what it is you are doing?

Do you know why every time the other takes a breath

you have to swallow a hurl of insults and tears?

Why it is that a caress of the skin feels like

a million little needles branding you with the responsibility of doing it again.

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You do not know what pleasure is.

You do not know what arousal is.

An orgasm to you, is expelling a foreign object from your body.

The painful gasp inwards after a resusitation.

Watching yourself from a distance lean in to be kissed until you cannot breathe.

Until your lungs have squeezed themselves shut.

Until you are free diving with no oxygen.

No warming equipment,

no gps.

No camera.

Just adrenaline.

Just that you are the prettiest boy in the world.

And as soon as it’s over,

as soon as they stop trying to push themselves in,

The Water will begin to rush in floods.

You will lay there in bed decomposing from the inside out,

mold from moisture growing on your skin.

You will turn pretty jewel shades of purple blue and green.

You will start to slip apart, each finger and toe degloving itself.

And you will wake up in the morning

and you will wonder why you cannot get clean

In the bath.

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