ArtemisStrong
masturbating to Japanese shit porn
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I'm gonna be a complete dickweed and post actual poems I wrote for an actual poetry class I actually attended.
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A room unfinished, metal studs exposed
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| and the sub-floor, too a plane of concrete glossy with a fresh coat of sealant fine dust and flakes of sawdust settled in an array of ant-sized dunes, piled high along the edges of things. | |
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| They come in here to smoke, brooms and pans and keys clipped to belt loops 2-ways turned down to almost-mute identical polos and faded blue work pants shuffling in the cool shadows of this unlit room | |
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| Broken by a bleached-golden plank of summer sun, charcoal tones of the incomplete room bisected by this swath of yellow the two criss-cross at varying intervals, | |
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| paths pulling together in lazy increments metered by exhales/inhales, drawing the pair together for a nervous kiss, | |
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| their lips meeting where the dust-glinted light meets the ensanguined dark, where cigarettes’ cherries touch briefly and spark, | |
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| as the couple’s hands first come together, interlace, and then part. | |
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| Chronic masturbators, pants unslung, tiny boners weaving and darting through the dim half-light of the porn theater, drawing in huge orgasmic panic-breaths of sweaty air, | |
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| the broth of shamed compulsive excitement that hangs in the room like a shot of semen suspended in sooty bathwater. | |
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| Look at their desperate eyes, pained commas where expectant brows knit together creasing the bridge of their old-man noses. The eyes tell a story--horrifying, bleak--of untouched hands, | |
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| unscratched backs, lips never coated in another's spit, ears never blanketed by the gush of warm breath formed when the words "I want you inside me" are spoken. | |
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| Are they praying? Is their faith resolute? Because they seem to make holy the act of burnishing their raw, red glans--"Be proud, you're strangling your cock into an afterlife of pure flacid nirvana." | |
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| Regard them, and know that they've discovered the secret entrance, the beguiled door, the invisible gate with its coded knock of salty flesh on salty flesh, and back away slowly, keeping them in sight | |
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--- Ham-fisted ham fisting.
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