Old times flashback like shuffled screenshots.
Selecting them all, you emptied them in your recycling bin and deleted them permanently.
Bookmarks weren’t refreshed, and the last visit was almost a year ago.
All of a sudden the task manager has a ton of free space.
Did you reboot your system?
Reinstalled all your programs?
I thought I was your favorite,
Maybe the domain was invalid,
Now the webpage can’t be found,
Looks like its been permanently moved.
Have you ran out of memory,
Or was your upgrade due soon?
Maybe I lagged too much.
Did you think twice about your quality of service?
What happened to my refunds?
I guess mistakes were made.
Proper disposal was neglected, so the damages remains the same.
Where did our sync go?
This part of the contract wasn’t explained,
Everytime I called customer service, no one was there when i complained.
Memories flood my brain, so I close my eyes and play duck hunt,
Severing memories, failing to learn where my luck flunked.
Slow your mind down,
Place your thoughts on cruise control.
Auto-pilot your brain, seat belt your imagination, prepare to lose control.
My tongue touches your flower,
She surfs the waves.
Rippling saliva throughout your tsunami,
Controlling your motor skills, muscles enslaved.
I am your weakness,
You have no will power once I begin to say grace.
Your favorite massage therapist, you tip efficiently on my face.
Swaying my tongue in multiple directions, licking in areas that have been neglected for years,
Every suck and flicker registers with your brain, the sounds of your voice sonic-booming the enhanced feeling in my ears.
Your body wants to reproduce, we’re telling her to get ready,
You have heat emitting from the door of your oven, the glands around your vaginal wall is sweating.
Submit to the feeling I’m giving you,
Don’t let society shame you from receiving pleasure.
Any negative response you’ll obtain from this interaction can be all ejected with the impeding weather.
Have confidence in your physical release,
You can use me for your personal gain. Eject the stressors from the day and just leave,
No one will judge you.
You have the most sensitive organ known to human reproduction, and I have a wet tongue for its stimulation.
The irony of this situation,
Is that my face is between your legs, but I’m licking your thoughts creating graphic, mental simulations.
Let me reinforce your femininity,
You have needs and hormones that need organizing,
I like a direct request, tell me what you want,
I respect confidentiality, so you won’t have to worry about this experience being demoralizing.
I was always the Yoshi in relationships,
There when needed,
And disposed of before they explored other territories,
I wanna be the thoughts to your most intimate orgasm,
Images that stimulate the most sensitive organs.
Allow me to take control and drive you to a place some deem forbidden.
You would confine yourself to solitary measures,
Self-inflecting psychosis that only morphine can relate to.
Dopamine gives you the cutest faces sometimes.
It’s like you can’t do anything about it, but that’s what you like it about it.
You deserve all of the above.
I’m walking down a dark path,
Found comfort in my dark past.
My thoughts are easily disturbed.
Soul so corrupted, if I wanted to sell it to the devil, it would be immediately returned.
It may better to be born ugly than pretty.
How many beautiful people easily acquire humility?
My poetry is redudant.
Heartbreak, pain, love, sex, politics,
Life, spirituality, elevated consciousness,
I’m provided all of the above in abundance.
I barely get respect.
Or maybe I expect
Respect from those who pose minimal importance, so why should I even get upset?
It obviously has an effect.
I can’t tell if I’m lost or experiencing freedom.
We are hardly speaking,
And I’m thinking,
Every attempt I make to reconnect for a meeting,
Is once again a reminder that I am obviously sleeping,
Because I’m dreaming.
My perfection is nonexistent similar to the others I share this oxygen with.
But what do you do when being chastised is the only option you get,
They say you’re moving too fast,
You have to stop and to sit,
Or risk being left behind, and labeled as wasting time
then you are cautioned to quit.
Obviously I haven’t learned one lesson when it comes to emotions.
Which is why operation Fuck Love is fully in motion.
I’m not bitter, just broken and fed up with being chosen,
By a particular archer who can’t cease to release his tantrum of explosions.
I now realize that situations mold faster than organic herbs.
You can cycle from combining ambitions to using savage words.
Expectations become parallel and inconsistent.
Astounding how sobered actions can alter thoughts and intentions.
Memories before cherished became tenants to ashtrays,
Possessions that were once sacred lost their value.
Connections that have been active have found alternative pathways,
Conversations that were normally heard no longer have volume….
It all worked out in the end.
We don’t know each other and you may not have a particular interest in acquiring new acquaintances.
I recognize a bio-chemical compatibility, so why not submerge each other in our own amazingness.
Our lips are desiring the extensive, prolonged security of an intimate relationship,
We can ignite flames that scent the fragrance of pleasure,
I appear in your mind after you closed your eyes to make a wish.
I’m feeling you,
You’re feeling me,
Is colliding like destroyed atoms crashing into each other, replicating cosmic energy.
Let’s take the hint.
I’m sure you’ve had your share of unoriginal interactions, so I’ll be sure not to make the list.
Our tongues are celebrating and performing ancient rituals, slow dancing with anticipation as they await the kiss.
We can create memories that linger in the synaptic gap of reoccurring flashbacks, striking still images that appear in our minds no matter what day it is.
Mankind’s ego is what causes you to sacrifice eternity for pleasures of the moment.
Stripping your thoughts
It uncovers layers that protect you from being open.
The mind bathes in free thinking.
But we’re cleanse resistant,
So therefore habitual patterns make us consistent victims.
We have yet to accept the fate of our flaws;
Plaguing truth with the overconfidence in ourselves that recycle happiness to rare memory occurrences
Allowing us to continue to prevent purification from happening;
Staggering progression, like an old car when it stalls.
I never wanna get to the point to where you think that I’m manipulating or using you.
You notice patterns in behavior, and conclude with proof.
Shouldn’t be surprised by the usual.
No longer impressed by the same tactics or what I used to do.
So you move on,
And decide to discontinue the pain, and you choose the truth.
Good for you.