casual sex

Inching towards each other on this bed of nails, rolling over like wet seals on sand, picking up grains of disgusting intimacy that somehow finds itself between our toes.
Why must our lips meet at all, if after this they’ll become strangers once again.
We both know what we’re here for, meaningless entering and exiting — but your pregnant eyes are stuck in the revolving door.
A Walmart greeter I am, mute, blind and indifferent, but you still manage to get me to kiss you.
The dogs barking in the background cover up our muffled praises to the lord,
while white noise is surfing around cartilage equal to raving schizophrenics in an echo chamber.
Indifferent towards this feeling of climax and when she utters my name, sweet unrequited disposition, I throw up my second stomach.
You give an aside, stating your on the pill, prozac or lithium I ask.
You turn over, yelling at me with your eyes to stay the night.
I pack up my 5 AM eye bags and go home during sunrise, the moon still out as if a lesson to be learned, but I dropped out of college a long time ago.
Walking considerately on the sidewalk, paving way for the grated shadows.
Skin is only as deep as the desire, modern romance is 3 foot kiddie pools.

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