Sunday, August 28, 2016

Dear Diary,

I don't have it figured out. 
I am immature. I like the heaviness 
of my boobs. I still shy at the term
tits. I'd like to feel another woman's 
tits. I'd like to compare. I'd like, 
I want to lie side-by-side naked
with a woman and laugh and 
say "look, you look like me" Discover 
ourself in each other's form for the 
first time. 

When I walk, I look at my 
surroundings, am drunk by my 
surroundings. Walking with is the 
most intimate encounter. We do not
promenade. We walk. Discover, race, 
share. 

Though stillwater flies'
droning chorus goldens each pitstop
succulently, we move. We brush, 
we press, we flex flesh, we break and 
grasp and clutch and gasp. we swollwe
yollwe yum we young yum we 
barrel and we bone and we elbow 
punt bold apart no stones thrown and
we punch space between we glom we
unhooked unarm. 

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