Rubber words slip through wetted lips, all meaning lost through lack of form and context, knuckles in palms steady the already frayed nerves, a distracting physical sensation, not the one I want though, tussled limbs and rowdy hair, a primal need commanded by DNA, some would fight it but I submit, Civilization a contrasting imposed state, my endowments although generous are wasted, mating dance would be simpler, many sticks woven into a home, impressed by shiny things, this one still works, I need a state of physical release, dependence on mechanical encrusted on the living, a hand offered for a cup of beans, to my bed again.
AloneComments
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The stream-of-conscious style helped bring out the spontaneity and organic nature of the act... Nice job.
(Incidentally, I read on your main page that you like Stephen Fry... mad props for that.)
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