Take some time.

Patience. Everything will be all right.
To be wanted. Fuck love. Give me passion.
I want to make him come. Come again, you and your light preassured twitching.
How is it that he's got no impulse to chase?
It is a game I want to play, but lately everybody is too modern to give a fuck, give a dime. Take some time.

She is the desperate message. The clear response of a chained virgen.
What are these chains for? Am I constrained? Attached to what?
To the promise of wellness and order. I am hectic and spontaneous.
If I want I take. And I will be taken. Why should never matter.
The lack of action is the disease.
Still, I don't act. I only write. I only think. I only wish.
And I care about the why, and specially about how.
I hope upon a smooth approach.

Thing is, I am fragile.
Too much thrubbing gives me pain.
An unloving farewell leaves me astonished.
I am gonna cut your cock off. Or maybe just kiss it. But I need your attention.
And I don't want to beg.

Don't tell me I can look for you, rather you look for me.