ben says we could have sex if it were justified like it automatically makes sense to him that sleeping with me is justifiable. well it certainly is nice that he treats me with love instead of respect but it is tricky to talk about. i can neither love nor respect anyone 'cause it's all about me. i just get attention and it's fun and easy. or beautiful.
maybe like a thimble or thumb thing. just draw attention to it in general. that has to be healthy, right? i hope so. yeah.
let us pile the pillows and cushions into a fort
then let us pretent to cry about our failure as
TWO HARD CORE PORN TWINKS
"jesus' shit, judas' jizz"
- a satisfied parishioner
some stuff is happening and stuff is short for emotional stuff. i try to put it in, pull it apart, and poop it out like eating. that is short for survival, digestion, and nutrition. it's going ok or even really well. just cannot be too obvious about it. you know.
in my parents' house's downstairs bathroom shower how ok is it to fuck my phantasm teenaged boy body whose ripe asshole was forbidden fruit at the time? it's pretty ok in a teen wet dream time machine shower hour ('cause that's how long the hot water lasts), right?
i'm like a big and thoughtful cucumber. i have one thing to say very slowly and it makes a lot of cucumber sense. i am talking to myself now which is unlike me. the water is hot.
let's sit on the little seat in the shower mould with you on me and the shaky sliding fiberglass door. hold yourself. open your eyes. see that cock? we are the same! enjoy it while you can sweet child, the water is still warm.
he means i am proud of this curiosity or jealousy or whatever about your confusion in a timely dream like some perfect accident. and he means well. oh no, you already came! it's time to stop now. the water isn't hot anyway.
basically i will fuck the fantasy of any memory of me after the habitat for humanity day when i think i was like 14 and 1/2. when masturbation was an education or an invention or something. when i could have been the thomas edison of slutty fruits and vegetables.
bigger stakes inside my head. please remember that i tried. temptation does not taste of ash (until it is satisfied).
i keep him in his upstairs room (with the stakes) where he plays just my games. we play them together and love each other like boys past bedtime.
other people's better things are all around but they don't belong. i will build this house until the cellular miracle is too good to pretend.
your better things aren't mine but you are.
up past bedtime,
—scott
i have a fantasy in which u r jealous of my relationship w/ ur mom b/c i have another fantasy in which ur mom is really cool & i have that fantasy b/c u said ur mom is really cool & i believe everything u say. if u have cool momz this post is about U!
i actually had a really great time @ space camp even though my model rocket didn't take off and i cried about it.
i no ur not b/c of ur overt charm & ur dead eyes & ur user-agent. nice try, robot menace attempt!
next time makeout w/ some1 cuter and perfecter than me & i'll believe ur 2nd r8 charade. human intrigue seduction ritualz r my 4té, bitch.
i'm in the mine shaft, about to bust through the stone wall to the tomb of the ancient kings.
p.s., kirk fogg, where are you?
p.p.s., i am going to listen to my cd player @ space camp
google maps has a new view with 3d keyhole sexiness right into teh browser. better still, google is using my washington sq. arch model from '07. you're welcome, humanity!
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rey has collected over 25 Spring Eggs and their Spring Basket is now 'Burgeoning'!
first of all, farmville, punctuation goes inside the quote marks. and "their" is plural. rey has collected over 25 Spring Eggs and his or her Spring Basket is now 'Burgeoning!' and since facebook requires one to conform oneself to the gender binary you ought to know with which sexist pronoun to reference my friend rey. none the less, this datum TURNS ME ON!
according to my science, it is spring. that equinox when dyed hair begins to bloom. my hair says hello, by the way. the future approaches as ever, whispering to me through each inch of male patterned baldness. my new future holographic hairdo is a pony galloping on a rainbow with SPARKLES bee-tee-dubbs!
so i'm scared. tah da. scared of it. not the hair thing silly. it the real it. you know and i know and we both know. and i feel like i fell out of a pocket and got ran over by a cab. but rey's basket is burgeoning. but porn is great. but it's spring. but i've got you. and an ipad. and you.
i've been on smartypants sam harris' youtube trail for years now. brainy good looks on an especially perspicuous speaker make my think-pussy ALL WET! i would rub myself on every inch of this man's face. i embed his public-radio-caliber baratone for your personal viewing pleasure
as usual, all the crazy shit is happening. thankfully, everyone is right where i left them in their crazy little places. shaking my booty helps A LITTLE. joy and everything else feels like a heart-attack. a booty-attack. god, this punctuation makes me want to throw up. HRRUUU,.,..-.-.,.AAGG fuckyoupunctuation bang bang bang bang. now shake that booty. be all things at all times. shakeshake. see the spaces betweeeeen. shakeshake. give generously to public radio. shakeshake. suck your boyfriend off every morning and every night. shakeshake. god, this music is SO GOOD. i'm already really excited. if i had more time i'd DRAW YOU A PICTURE or something. LIKE WRITE A NOTE OR SOMETHING. i'd explain this or that and myself and ya know. but my trusty booty and i have places to be!
BWWWAAAAAAA,.,..-.-.,.,.,..-.-.,...........,.'.'..'.!UF
