I love you…
With the love…
I begun the
journey
A skeptical
journey
What is love?
So I loved her
With the love…
I had read of
love
The love so
spoken of in that book
A love I was
taught in Sunday school
And then I had
dreams
With that new
chic
Who had just
joined my class
Class five, not
teenage hood
But in the dream
She turned out a
boy!
Well, at least
on the inside
So this love, I
wrote
It was now in
teenage hood
Balls up and
hairs all grown
I loved her…
And she loved me
back,
Can you imagine?
Only one sad
story
“I love you,”
she said, “With the love of God.”
God…God…God!??
This sentimental
journey
Is a journey of
guts
Instincts,
guts—go-getter!
Buddies said I
was… shy
Ladies said I
was… timid
I still liked
them
Then with a text
The sexting
started on
I wasn’t living
sentimentally!
I wasn’t whole!
I thought I
would be
One night away
Seven unpicked
calls
Kissing and
booby-booing
Tongue-racing
and…
I couldn’t feel
a thing
The top lip felt
amazing
The curvature
was overwhelming
I turned a nerd
Lunatic, my
blind stick was out
Oh God, I don’t
know how
To love!
She wanted to
talk
Sweet little
gentlemanly talk
The manly
vibrations of my sweet
Apple- she had
never touched one before
Instead I
insisted on bear
Fucking!
The condom—I
couldn’t buy it
I only played
with it as a lad
She couldn’t do
it
Or I wasn’t good
at my preparation
Game
Then I buried it
to family lovers
I was typing—in
the cyber
I lodged, you
should know these things
I was only
eighteen
It made sense
In truth I was
loving—writing
I was not loving
her
Childhood memories
persist
My no erotic
small stick inside the small hole—on the ground or
Of a niece
We are ever
beastly in every part
Of our growth
But if sticks
and holes
Are ever to rule
us
We are ever
lower than the beasts
That stick—I cut
it off
Through a text
an eye for an eye
She must have
felt bad
The dumping…
Now I don’t know
if
I am capable of
loving anyone
I had loved with
sticks
Perhaps I should
try with hearts
But it never
works
It’s like the
echoes write a big
“Fuck You!”
I shouldn’t
adhere to that
This journey
still broadens up and grows
Extremities I
can never reach
I love quality
I should find
one
One admitted her
liking an artist—a handsome one
That made me wet
my pants
Out of the blue,
there could come
Such a star?
Then I was the
wolf
And she was with
the vampire
It’s all in the
sentimental journey
I want a black
American I said
My buddy said my
bed was gonna need repair
I persisted the
hug of a Spanish
I watched that
of the Western
It’s all the
same
A Kung-fu should
race me up
A Zulu should
break me up
And I still
wonder why these guys
Marry neighbors
I mean in
Western
Those asses make
you stand!
And the Nyanza
buddies teach you the game
I hear the story
is the same
In West
Africa—Kubuitsile must have it
Then these
websites tell me
To write this
and that
Vibrators and
women
Vibrators for
women and
Women for
men—replace ‘women’ with ‘girls’
The sentimental
journey is no longer sentimental—
It is mean and
delinquent
I told her I
loved her
She said she
never expected that from me
Now what? They
think I
Can’t truly love
them? Anyone?
I closed her
page down
And we are
friends who sleep
In the same bed
With lots of
saliva not to share
But to selfishly
gulp and swallow
She takes lots
of water
My lips are dry
she thinks
That’s why he
can’t kiss me
Truth is, I
can’t because I can’t
My dick is hard
eroticized
I can’t fuck
because I can’t
But I really
like her
Perhaps a little
kiss can do no harm?
And its
morning—10 o’clock
Sounds a weird
idea especially
After the whole
selfish night
There is always
a next time
Then these
freaky adventurous
Souls—add
‘beautiful’ souls
Benevolent and a
tad tactical
Athletic—energetic—intelligent
Everything I
would want from a girl
A woman of many
women
I should break
her league
The sentimental
journey
And I hear
writers—most of them
Take this
journey differently
Some taking secrets
to the deathbed
Others being
‘Gay in public’
All want to
‘think freely’ alongside infidelities
I am thinking
freely now
Women think I
want to learn something
When I read a
gay writer
This homophobia!
They are
suspicious of me
When they notice
a lonely love life
But I love
everyday
It’s just that
the time to
Fuck has never
come for me
Everyone nurses
their own little addictions you know
They still make
up the Sentimental Journey
©Simon21
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