• ....Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt.....
    "Baby, wake up. It's morning."

    As I rose out of bed I furiously clutched my head
    for it was pounding after all the drugs that I've did.
    Just me and my Boyfriend always inebriated the drugs he
    brings keeps us both elated. The sex, Oh God; If there was
    one I would thank him for the countless orgasms; and the positions oh so odd.

    Though we have our separate obsessions, which keeps spurring up augmented argumentative digressions.

    I love my Baby to Death. Of course I do. Then why would I let him break my back, [say my prayers] and bid him ado? We stay up all night in our nice little high. Instead of watching the telly we stare at the purple and blue smoke circling the room, we stretch our arms to grab at imaginary mushrooms. We don't only ********. We make love too. Our bodies melt faster than the candles, faster then the pot we burn. We have angry sex, make-up sex. Any kind you can think of for any kind of bad situation.

    Sex, no it doesn't solve anything. But it releases stress. Me and my Baby we also talk too. If you ever eaves dropped on our conversation then you would have no idea what we are talking about, that's how intricate our love is.

    I admit, we are not perfect for each other. Sometimes I wonder how the hell I got him, and he wanders on the same thing.

    We both agree we are too good for each other. But what the hell...

    "Babe. Get up..."

    I walk over to stare at my Baby... Brown eyes, brown hair, brown skinned. Beautiful, but he doesn't like that.

    He sleeps....like a rock. He sleeps like a Jew in a German basement.
    I want to touch him. But.. I cannot.

    For if I were to lay my hands on him he'd turn to gold. Then I wouldn't be able to feel him inside of me, I wouldn't be able to hear him scream my name...


    "D wake up..it's time to go."


    I cannot touch him.