Walking lyrically, I happened upon a list of a stranger's aspirations.
And thought how I'd make making love to you the last of my own.
And you'd be on the list last because I want you to think I want you.
But I want to continue quietly telling myself "I'll be sure to abstain"
without necessarily thinking it the truth, the godawful truth. I
never want to see you again (but, of course, I will).
Here I am
- Some kinda four 'o' clock tragedy
- New York, NY, United States
- I am a writer. I believe all engaging writing is a precious balance between aural and visual aesthetic, emotional and intellectual depth. I am an "intense" young man, and I've yet to find someone willing to contest that claim. I am not rated G, nor is my writing. "Abandon hope, all ye who enter."