Poetry-48

Jason

Rather than release, I find myself craving.. Connection, of a tight and frictional nature. I can feel the testosterone pumping through my body. Normally, I relieve myself of this primal urge, but for the past two days, I have chosen to embrace its frustrating, contorting and almost mindless grip.. Every opportunity, every meeting of the eyes, every presence, everything my eyes can see, is a sign, a hidden meaning, a clue.. I literally feel like Sherlock Holmes, following the trail of some wicked villain, magnifying glass in hand, in the most dire straights, like one of these women has Watson captive and god damnit I need my sidekick.

Yesterday was tough to manage this, but i’ve been up for like 2 hours now and even my legs slightly moving seems to stir the beast and I feel genuinely sorry for the poor soul who lets this Cerberus off it’s leash.

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