Nonsense

using muted as adjective elicits fervor.

gerald gets on his knees and calls me baby.

his pupils are fully dilated and he reminds me of a starving cat desperate to catch its reflection in a mirror of pride.

this is my first close up look at regurgitated sexual arousal and the desperation both disgusts and intrigues me.

my figure is a perfect hourglass and i know this because he said so. i wonder on which side the sand falls and whether he is more attracted to what’s passed or what remains.

he takes off his clothes, holds his erect penis and i stare without moving. there is nothing within me that wants to get any closer and yet i can’t take my eyes off of his suffering dance.

he’s tweeking and in just a moment will run naked toward the window and peek through the curtains to see if the cops are following him.

he’s at least twenty-five years older than me but something about him screams latent teenager. he’s cute and i like him because he’s giving me attention but soon he’ll sober up and this interim captivation will disappear.

i should be scared of him but there’s no fear. only curiosity.

it is always curious what people see when they’re not looking.