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The paradoxical nature of perverts relating to my semi-erotic form of self expression

Oh my dearest perverts.

I thank you.

in every frank and earnest possible way that I am able to do so,

I thank you.

But you break my heart.
Oh yes, you certainly do.

You know now that I write from the perspective of a heart
that is fraught with anxiety and doubt,
but is locked in a frenzied beat, that pumps the blood of a man
it has reluctantly decided to live for.

My heart is without lips;
 I listen to its thoughts,
to give it a voice by the words
that spill forth from my hands.


You must now know,
perverts,
That I am not writing about you.
We haven't met.
We hopefully won't ever met.

So you must stop deluding yourself
that I am at all interested in become
your ideal lover- you don't know me.

You have nothing but an artistic
front that has been created to sift
through the things that haven't yet
found the proper words, then to
find a way to use language to
explain them so that they
may finally be understood. 

And I know that He won't be reading,
That He'll be fucking the hottest hipster beauty queen,
But I can't give up on him yet.
Even though I know better-

He always gives me enough hope
to clench the rope of the possibility
that he might still be sweet on me. 
So I keep writing these things...

But that's not what you like,

Now IS it Boys?

No you love the pictures.
And while I love that you
can appreciate the eroticism
I try to convey in my provocative
and hopefully nostalgic poses,
I only have myself exposed
in this particular way,
so that the Man,
I hope is reading,
sees me and
sees me even
more vividly
in the breath
of our old
beautiful
memories.


So yes, I DO appreciate you perverts,
All of you that just come here
ignore my words and
simply salivate to these
hardly explicit photographs,

then wishing that this girl was real....
and close to you while your wife
or your girlfriend is away....

Until you've gotten sticky
and suddenly realize
you're out of kleenex.

It is sweet.
In a strange way.
But for a girl like me
It's a comfort to know
that I can bring you joy,
even if it's not the joy
I wanted you to have,
Perverts.

So please, keep reading,
Tell me if you like these pictues
You do boost my hits considerably.

Because I won't be posting them anymore
if nobody likes them and that Man doesn't
even care to see them.

(He gets far more explicit versions of these pictures anyway...)

Comments

  1. I love your writing. You know that I'll be waiting for you if you ever decide to give up on that guy you've been obsessing over. At least for now.

    Thank you for enabling anonymous comments again. It's not that I don't want you to know who I am. It's just that I can't have my name associated with this blog in such a public manner.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Although if you do take me up on my offer, I can't promise that stalled in satisfaction won't become a permanent curse.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I'll keep it this way for a day or two.

    It's not so much an obsession as an inspiration-twisted and sweet.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Well, he is a lucky man either way.

    ReplyDelete

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