The idealistic pleasure of the teasing breathing parts that have lungs grasping for air. The sexual current, an electricity for the masses, has begun a pent up concoction within the very mouth of being filthy. The game of twister with garments and words all building up and shaking down through the body of extreme desire. Bumpy road, you riding it? Smooth sailing and no fun was ever had without the rough seas for all the world to see the quick quake of a pleasure craft. Pleasure me this, magnetic ideas clinging to the zippers on my pants, if I were wearing any pants, so they cling to the nylon of the night and the depriving swarm of this sexual energy has got us grabbing out for red bulls and cigarettes to keep our hands and mouth busy on the idea of our hands and mouth busy on you. The electric feel of the ideas the mind is piecing together quickly and the sexual involvement that has surrounded my clothing has got me naked. Naked lunch? The time for naked is now. The injection of a physical drug, got us junkies feelin' freaky and with a little more bass there would be trouble. Wants become sugar coated into beautiful attributes but who can we kid when all we want to do is get our kicks. The hopscotch game of naked. And keeping this sex to the cost of a verbal affair is really fucking me huh. The ironic actions of a verbal frenzy contorting everything that appeared to be oh so fitting. You'd fit me perfectly. The excess is good. The hope towards not seeing and ignoring the foolishness of all that is fooling the fun out of this. Pleasure me this, won't you?
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