Women do not lie. Boys do not listen.
Finally and firstly all at once she exclaims through her drunken motions and with every fibre of her being please, I'm just a plate, please plate me!
You look sternly down upon her, kiss her softly and whisper: "You will be the one now."
She jumps she skips and she attempts to draw you further with every motion frantic now nervous and as it is so it slips into reality please need a man but I'll be your own personal whore, please! she makes out with another woman and they trip as they skip oh so nervous lest a man see.
Ever the stoic, they said, to forever hold frame and you hold it here, in this moment you cradle her and let it the stream of consciousness drizzle in perfect order, in perfect form, from your lips into a perfect ear: "I will be that man. Those are nice nails, are they real? I was just at the gym earlier. But I disagree with what you just said. Come with me for a second. No but you can buy me a drink. We aren’t having sex tonight. " You spit the game, and the game spits you. She is falling away now. You are falling away now. How? No? How? What? None of this makes any sense does it?
This boy! she smiles as she skip’s away quietly This boy does not listen to me! All he does is caress spectre and sing with her! A ring. A man is not a man who is unable to communicate! A ring. He only sings and plays and frolics! Does he not know that’s what singing is for? * A rosey. *Does he not know my form? Can he not see me? Your pockets are now empty.
You fell into the dark place. That place, where you mutter “Please. Again. Please.” As your hand fights its way through the sea of flesh and spit and tears that cumulates along with broken men, you sense that you will come back stronger, and it is precisely as you think. Your strength grows as your hand writhes with the rest, breaking fingers and clawing at skin, you overpower them. Squizzing a forearm until it dislocates a shoulder, breaking an arm to lengthen your own, you have your medicine and they know no such thing. This power flows through you. The thought occurs to you as your ears ring and your blood pumps that this is what you need to get her to love you. This will make her love you the way she should have too. Your hand! It reaches the edge! It is now time! You pull yourself back up, up above the other men! Above the hurt! The spit! The tears and blood and sweat, it’s all soaring away below you now! The dark place is gone in an instant! Her song is in your ears again! You are back! Now it is time! Now is your time! Now your words will count! The pedestal! Behold the spectre! Behold the song! The pussy! Behold the warmth! In tune, loudly and clearly now! “Foul spectre you will hear me sing! This time, this time you will be mine! This time I know what you want and now I can offer it to you!”
A woman prances behind you, thinking for single a second to gain your attention silly boy she skip’s toward another, another, an- there! *A man! A boy who claimed a pedestal for himself! Oh my I do hope not to slip! Can I dance? Can I act? He knows my form? *
“Here my words bitch! You be trippin!”
Bitch be tripping? Well! I never! I never fucked someone this well before!
Women do not lie. Boys do not listen.