I feel a slut.
I come and go. I live not so far. In the hostile hostel. My button wants your button. Weekend nights are ours. She spends time with everyone but me. Sleeps with me, though. And then I go away.
She wants me to.
She wants me.
Does she?
We seldom talk.
She talks in her sleep. I guess I answer.
I dream about her.
ONLY about her.
You can buy me for love. Relatively cheap.
This psychodelic nightmare is mine. Not anybody else's.
She's my obsession.
What she says and what I see are two polar things.
I aborted trust. Never felt any better.
She deletes her messages. I don't answer mine.
She pretends to call me. I pretend not to hear the phone ring.
She's older. I'm smarter.
She's a full-grown woman. She told me I'm a man.
Time to check it.
I love her.