I rarely write anymore, because what’s the use of words anyway?
I mean they often go unheard.
Others simply fail to listen….. when it’s their own righteousness, their own futures, their own paths they’re missing.
I don’t really write no more because these words are more than just some bullshit phrases …..integrated along lines filling blank pages.
There’s no need to emphasize my ideals when the very point I’ve made goes unscathed, or even worst misinterpreted or relayed in some unjust way.
I could speak all day but if these words aren’t heard then what’s the use anyway.
You see me as a writer but to me it’s more than the way I grip the pen and gracefully glide my way across the paper as gently as I
stroke her thighs in the midnight hour.
You see…to me, it’s more than the move my hands make across the keyboard tapping the space bar as if it were her ass backing up
to me, or the way the keystrokes return mind control as our eye contact arise… every time I enter.
You see…you don’t understand me…so I don’t write much because these words don’t mean to the same to you as they do me.