The emptyness.
The fullness.
Your naked body, my naked body, lying on the tile floor for the security
cameras to see. The psilocybin whiskey and cigarettes we'd bought from
the vending machine are on your breathe as you exhale.
Inhale. Your chest rises and falls.
I am both bitter and content. 4 million years of evolution for this?
Fucking on the spotless kitchen floor of a closed fast food restaurant?
Helpless to the fire burning inside me to plant my flower inside you.
I don't like to feel used - whether its good for me or my species or
not.
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