Wake up. Alone in my bed again. Since forever I’ve been dreaming of finding love but all I get is rejection.
Porn. Hand. No lotion. These urges need silencing if just for an hour or two.
Night. Sleep comes after time remembering moments of my life like frames of a movie out of place.
Alone again I dream of not being alone and those times I was physical with guys but still distant like strangers.
Inside. Outside. Thrust. Hips. Lips. Tips. Moments replay in my head as I think about the books I’ve read. The people of books and dreams I’ve dreamt at night.
Real. Fake. Shake me awake. My longing continues daily. I’m not alone on purpose. No one wants me around.
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