Day 118
Slow is the memory and I can picture her standing right in front of me, said that I'm behaving badly and kind of driving her crazy, but I know she wants me. I remember everything; her sweat, it tastes like sugar cane and sitting on top of me, yelling out my fucking name until I'm empty but I know she wants me. But I have already tried to explain myself. It's not that I love someone else but I can't bear to listen to you cry. Sick of all these wasted years, drowned in someone else’s tears. You let me down, now I'm hanging you out to dry. And I'll see you when I get back, maybe we can get ourselves back on the right track. You touch me there because you know how much I like that. I think that we both need to relax, you know you want me. All the time and everywhere, a happy surface but the underbelly isn't there. And the worst thing is that I don't even really care, and the emptiness is too much to bear. 'Cause sometimes I don't know what to do — I'm scared to stand right in front of you












