mbb308
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jun 16, 2002
- Posts
- 6,484
One Sunday Night
Sometimes, I don't feel very forgiving
and I don't want to look at it. I don't
want to ask myself why. And its not like
I enjoy these feelings, this big dark swirl
of crap winding in constrictor coils,
wrapping its unwanted self around the
outcroppings of the best parts of my soul.
I want to be pleasant, but it's too much
like work, and want to feel happy, content,
not some false sense of ecstacy, just good.
Sometimes, in spite of, it just won't happen.
I just want to change the way that I feel,
and I know that's always an inside job -
or, maybe, just sleep - and pray for no dreams.
Sometimes, I don't feel very forgiving
and I don't want to look at it. I don't
want to ask myself why. And its not like
I enjoy these feelings, this big dark swirl
of crap winding in constrictor coils,
wrapping its unwanted self around the
outcroppings of the best parts of my soul.
I want to be pleasant, but it's too much
like work, and want to feel happy, content,
not some false sense of ecstacy, just good.
Sometimes, in spite of, it just won't happen.
I just want to change the way that I feel,
and I know that's always an inside job -
or, maybe, just sleep - and pray for no dreams.

