some-random diarist

"Writing is a socially acceptable
form of schizophrenia.”

Hello, I'm Gixx and this
my very personal journal.


musings

DILF
On the road
splitsecond
Crisis
An unconventional affair
Metamorphic Year I
"The Footballer"
On "I think we're better off as friends"
nothing but obscurity
New Year's Eve


oh universe



















































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0208
Friday, February 8, 2013

+

Under these sheets, you were hovering
tightly around my body.
Burying your head
and smelling the grease in my hair,
lazy arms entwined over my breasts.
All of you pressed against my back
as if I were your muse or lover.

I was more  than a stone, good as statue.
These displays weren't all too unfamiliar.
I've traipsed to others' bodies before
Unashamed, unfazed of indignity.

No feelings, for nobody else.
To no one, but my beautiful wretched self

I see myself embraced in lust
or love, I couldn't be sure of.
I did not, never cared.
Empty, cold, hollowed with my self-damnation.
Not even for lust
Not even for sin.

I watch your eyes
beg for something,
anything.
But
kissing you,
fucking you,


is just next to nothing.


And for love,
not even close.


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