Can't sleep; past actions are blasting past where sheep-clad feet should be as logical paradoxes toss and turn and yearn to be set free. A cold breeze is needed so I can be left drifting like a quick e-brake squeeze. Squeegee my daemons and leave me be to wean off the shattered fragments and broken mirrors of my dream...
Broken mirrors.
--
Last night I awoke in fear that I'd never see another threesome, perhaps with people I haven't even met yet. Two PYTs and a mess of a me, just directionless, but recklessly I'll confess I've been asked to have one three times prior to last night's overdue tripe. And I'm sure more lucid dreams pace and await beneath the loosely-lit floor like a basement of peons waiting to do labor for a feudal lord...
Reckless confession.
--
But affection is what She has to offer, and that's all I think I need. She's devotedly independent though, and I'm often either cold or the opposite of emotionally sober. Fuck it: control me. Console me. Come hold me til I fall out and the pen falls right out my hand, obviously inoculated by Your innocuous toxicity...
Logical paradox.
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