Just play scrabble

the world is a lonelye place. If it wasnt then odd men wouldnt play scrabble with women who have their profile picture set to bunnies... and when they did they wouldnt ask them their names and what they did for a living, they wouldnt look upon them as sex slaves merely because they answered their names were jodie or jamie or something they fancied they could roll in their tongues for hours at a time. Lonliness creates perverse men with vivid imaginations and nothing better to do than to tlak in low tones to their computers and cell phones.

Oh skeptical heart put it all away. I needed to throw up. I needed to throw up my hands to admit I had every right to an addiction, I am human I am indeed flawed and fucked up... its enough to believe id say... everyone is struggling with their own parasite, created in their likeness. We are all gods.

I was reading a book called men and masuclinity until I realised that it might as well be entitled whats wrong with me. I want to rid myself of the disodent dissseasre that takes hold in the form of these two word. Masculine and men. Im fighting myself really.

I can smell my crotch it is vague with a singe of burnt demeanor, I havent been fucked in days, its been longer than I can remember, and really it hasnt been that long... I am a fucking slut.

But theres no character judgement in that., I rather like to be licked caressed and pounded. I rather like to be someones meal instead of consuming lust on my lips as if it were a replacement for nourishment. Just fuck me already.

Fucking myself is getting boring... maybe thats why the idea of loving myself seems entirely a chore. Id rather be detached, rub one out and get on with the day. But it seems I am just lonley eyes, a swelling pain and a deep void rummaging through crowds. It seems that I have become just as pathetic as the man messaging me through online scrabble.