Day 15: Self Censorship Was Never My Strong Point

Sometimes in the heat of the
moment as my hands are around you
and our lips are locked tongues
inserted daintily in each others' mouths.
I lose focus and wonder what
I'll be doing in a year from then.

usually I predict it'll be
raining and I'll be sitting
on my couch watching old
Bob Hope films pretend laughing
to my self.  

Then, I run out of breath,
our lips let go and be
both gasp for air focusing
on lighter neck kisses
gently pressing lips
against your satin flesh, the
thought continues:

I'll be eating pop corn--
no, ice cream with a chocolate
ring around my mouth. My shirt
will fit tighter and
I'll have a stain over
the left pocket from
when I wore it
the day before. I'll smell
of bad bio with sour milk from
the bowl of yesterday which
is growing a bacteria culture.
Also, my bloodshot eyes, drooping
like an old hound dog's, will burn from
exhaustion as I continue to
pretend to laugh at
the TV.

Then you'll start to kiss me
rubbing your hands through my
hair, around my neck and slowly
down my chest and again I'll
flash forward my head turned
staring at the telephone
thinking I should call
you,but I know you won't
answer. 

Your hands grasp my belt buckle, pull
flinging open the metal bracket pulling
the trigger I flash to the future I see
wuss self crying because sometimes
I say too much in my own
poetry (like how I lose focus
or how you get weird pimples
on the back of your thigh which
oozes Vesuvian puss if I grasp
too hard) pretending
you'll never read it but
knowing full well that
you will, do and
just have.

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