the (suddenly rhetorical) question

When she wanted somethin bad enough, she got sweet like high fructose corn syrup.

She would turn her head to an angle most becoming through his eyes of her figure, a calculation she fine tuned in response to the f-stop of his dilated pupils. Her lashes flicked like butterflies alighting.

The moment his attention shifted from the galaxy s, operation tweet unfollow, to her revival theatrics sillhouette girlfriend experience, she popped the suddenly rhetorical question…

“Do you think maybe you could help me out?”

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wanting until it hurts

And have you ached with want?

the rabid foam

of lack

 

and do you foment insurrection

against your very

basic need?

 

splicing atoms after

that which

never may be yours?

 

if you have

then hear me now

i feel 4

five six

feel for

you

 

along the narrow

twisting

rush along

our river

Styx